Wolfheart
by AC-107
Summary: A loner druid with a past he keeps to himself yet flees from, is thrust into a desperate quest to stop the Lord of Terror. Forced to join with six other would be heroes. Will they succeed or turn on each other? Diablo 2 Fanfiction novelization. Rated M for violence and other stuff later on. Will Update at least once a week. Reviews would be great, Enjoy. Up to Chapter 10
1. Chapter 1

The crash of thunder and something else woke Fenrir from his dream of the wild hunt. The young druid shook the sleep off and got to his feet from under the tree.

He was tall for a human, his height giving even some of the over muscled barbarians a run for their gold. Before he'd left the school back in Scosglen, some of the other druids joked that he was half barbarian. His long wild grey hair that was for the most part tied in a tail that reached down to his lower back, waved in the wind. While most of his hair was tied back, his head was a uncontolable wild mop of grey, with two large bangs hanging near his dark green eyes. His sensitive nose and ears picking up things that evaded most dull humans. His feral green eyes scanned for whatever threat that lurked within the woods in the south of Khanduras, his unshaven face in a scowl. He wanted to know what had set his senses to high alert, but with the incoming storm, the odds of him finding out were slim at best, even with his animal instincts, the same instincts that told him he'd be better off not knowing. He sighed, looked out into the forest once more then looked back to his campsite and noticed something.

His camp fire had long since died, yet he could smell smoke on the rising wind. There was a fowl scent that made him growl accompanying the smoke, but he couldn't place what it was. Regardless, now that he had the scent, he was going to check out what had disturbed him. He picked up his few health potions, battered buckler and the battered near worthless piece of wood that passed for a club.

He'd taken them from one of a trio of bandits who'd been stupid enough to attack him when he had been in a bad mood. Even after being ripped off of most of his belongings in Kingport save for his fur and leather clothes, the bandits couldn't have hoped to match the animal power he wielded. Worthless scavengers, he snorted in disgust. Then moved after the scent of smoke and flame as the rain began to fall.

He moved fast through the undergrowth, the scent fading, but still there, with the unknown stench growing stronger.

Fenrir reached a clearing and stopped, the rain poured down, soaking through the fur hides he wore, drenching him. The scent had faded, but it was no longer needed as the stench was now overwhelming. Not even the rain seemed to drown it out. Close, he was able to better identify how it smelled of burning hair, charred flesh and unwashed undergarments.

It was too quiet, the downpour of rain made noise but there as no sound of natural life of the forest, no irritated chirping of birds at all. Then a twig snapped, loudly to his ears, and something bright blood red and the size of a small man jumped at him. He was not unprepared, club ready in his hand, he swung. Fenrir was rewarded by a squishy crunch of the something's face crumbling under the weapon and the feeling of a few warm specks amongst the many cold ones.

He would of turned to look at his kill, to see what it was but he had more little red problems coming from the woodwork. He grinned, finally, a fight he could enjoy. Now with them coming from all around him, he could get a look at these things.

Their skin was bright red, their bodies lean, humanoid and oddly muscled. They had a pair horns thrust forward out of their skulls. They almost might of been slightly scary except for the fact that the tallest among them was only as tall as Fenrir's waist. If anything, they seemed laughable. Fenrir would of probably started laughing, but held it back on account of two reasons. They had deadly serious weapons and they had surrounded him.

In his head he cursed himself for being this reckless, but still, a snort of laughter escaped his mouth, only to be covered by the thunderous storm above him.

He remembered hearing talk of of little "demons" like these ones in a inn a few days south. The soldiers called them "The Fallen"

The small monstrosities looked at their dead comrade by his feet. Some turned and ran screaming back into the woods, the rest swarmed, roaring high pitched cries that sounded mostly pathetic, Fenrir thought he heard some kind of name "Rakanishu!" amongst the cries. In reply he grined and yelled 'Alright then!' as he charged the one in front of him.

He'd rarely used a one handed weapon and shield, but it was easy to use a club. Swing it 'till whatever he was swinging it at wasn't moving anymore and that he did. The first fallen was swept aside with a crunch falling to ground with a bloodied ruin for a head, but Fenrir was already focusing on the third one, having killed the second fallen with club as he spun to face more of them. From there on it was merely repetition of swinging and moving on. To his heightened scenes, every move these little devils tried to make was already long known by the druid as he swung his club. It almost looked like a grisly dance of blood, splattered brains, bone bits and death.

Too soon, it ended, his blood fury unsaited as the storm boomed and raged above like a crowd denied their sport. Almost too late he noticed one last fallen rushing him. He turned to face it, his club raised. Suddenly a blast of heat and flame blinded him, forcing him to stagger back, follwed by the stink of fresh burning flesh.

Fenrir blinked away the bright spots that clouded his vision and found himself looking at the one thing that could make his day worse.

A woman but wait, from the staff clutched in her hands and her odd, unsuited to the weather, dress Fenrir could see that she was something even worse than that.

A _Sorceress_.


	2. Chapter 2

The storm continued on it's path, beginning to lessen as Fenrir and the Sorceress stared at each other, a contest of who would look away first.

Druids as a rule, even secluded far in the north as they were, more or less despised most other magic wielders for the havoc their irresponsible use of arcane power had wrecked on the natural world of Sanctuary, especially the Vizjerei, for their history with demons. As for which mage clan this Sorceress belonged to, Fenrir could only guess.

She was quite beautiful from what he could see of her form in the shadows of the withering trees. She had a kind of aura around her, probably due to her magic. Her long black untied hair gently blew in the wind despite the storm. Fenrir also noted that the form fitting green cloth and silk clothes that covered most of her body was dry, in fact it seemed the Sorceress was entirely dry. The added jealousy of that fact did nothing to help Fenrir's first impression of her,

'That lousy _dry_ element enslaving...'

After what had seemed like an eternity of waiting in silence, the Sorceress spoke up first, interrupting that train of thought.

'That's funny, I thought I'd sensed some new kind magic around here.'

'Bonds of the primordials, she's good!' A rather surprised Fenrir thought to himself. True he'd used some druidic power, but it'd only been enough to enhance his senses and reflexes. While it sounded like a lot, it hardly affected his mana supply at all.

'Oh hi, sorry, I didn't see you there.' That one line instantly made Fenrir loathe the Sorceress. How had she not noticed him? Any more and he couldn't guaranty his civility or her safety. 'Have you seen signs any arcane magics around? Other that these... things of course.' She seemed kind of out of it. Knowing her kind, that could mean anything, not a lot of it good.

Doing his best to maintain his scrap of civil manners, Fenrir couldn't help but let out a snicker. She was sharp, but not enough to know precisely who did what. Still, he adjusted his grip on the club.

'Nope, other than the little red jokes that came at me to die, I haven't seen squat, beyond this sickened wood. Although, the magic you sensed probably came from me. Now, could you tell me who you are, or can I start coming up with some nicknames to call you by? Like maybe Flamehead, or how about Firefingers?'

That seem to snap the Sorceress back to the world. 'What? Where did"Firefingers?" come from? Shouldn't you introduce yourself first, since you're the one asking?' She sounded a little confused.

Fenrir snorted and started moving towards her and the cover of the trees, slowly. As he made his way over the bodies of the dead demons, he gave one or two of the fallen with more intact heads a precautionary kick, just to make sure they were dead. Could never be too careful with these things.

'Normally that would the case, but then again, you did just nearly roast me with that fireball that you used to steal that last kill and without even noticing that I was there! So how about it, Firefingers, you tell me your name and mage clan first, or I can start to get real creative with the nicknames. I've had a few bad days lately, so I'm not in the best of moods and I've got more than a few choice words right now.' he retorted, nearly snarling while giving a massively irritated feral glare at the Sorceress. He fixed his club to a loop on his belt, just so if he lost his temper, he wouldn't get too rough with her, much.

Her voice came out extremely embarrassed and quick, stumbling over her words. 'O-h-h, sorry about that. Um, yes, my name is ah, Erica Lam, of the Zann Esu mage clan. I'm really sorry, I was carried away trying to figure out what was happening to the woods around here.' she started to regain her composure. 'I was so focused that when I felt that last Fallen's presence, I just reacted

without thinking.'

If she was going to say any more, a loud scream of fear and loss broke through the fading storm, drawing there attention.

'Right, Firefingers it is then.' said Fenrir and he dashed west in the direction of the scream with Erica following him, keeping pace much to the druid's surprise. As they made their way through the dying trees the Erica asked Fenrir his name.

'Fenrir. Blackclaw. Druid.` he replied as he ran. He figured since he knew her name and mage clan, he'd at least tell her his. It couldn't hurt.

The smell of smoke reemerged as they moved and a light appeared as the darkness grew, growing larger and larger. Until they came to a burning cottage.

Erica leaned against one the trees, catching her breath, she had kept up with Fenrir going through the underbrush better than he thought any human possibly could, so he didn't criticize her, only shook himself like a dog to dry off a bit and sniffed the air from the shadows, picking up the other scents. The smoke and fire was over whelming obviously, however the fowl stench of demons was present, and fresh.

Erica had regained her breath and was looking at him curiously.

'What are you doing?'

He held a his index finger up to her while still focused on the burning cottage, 'Shhh'

The Sorceress sighed irritatedly, and began to use her own powers to check.

The wind picked up, and with it came more demon stench and something new, but it was something that Fenrir recognized. Blood, freshly spilled, and human.

A cry of pain, made them move towards the small barn, quietly. They were greeted by a corpse of a middle aged man, bloodied short sword by his side. He was clothed in normal clothes, soaked red by the blood coming from a gaping wound in chest and an axe in his skull. Another painful scream sounded from inside the barn, along with a crunch of wood and a bunch of excited high pitched inhuman chatter.

Fenrir, his inpatients overwhelming his common sense, quickly picked up the short sword, it's previous owner no longer needing it and charged into the barn.

**Author's bit: Hi there, thank you for reading so far. As you can guess I am still a massive noob at publishing stuff here. Like I said in the description, any and all reviews, pointers and tips, would be great. I'm aiming to at least try to make this go the entire Diablo 2 game, with some extras. I'll make it a point to update at least once a week, but crap may happen (or I'll get lazy).**

**Also I'll answer any questions about the story I get or can, in these little bits or give heads up if I'm expecting delays. Any way, enjoy and good night, or day, or evening or morning and see ya later. **


	3. Chapter 3

It was hard to tell who was more surprised, Erica, the Fallen, or the mortally injured Rogue being tortured, when he burst in howling. But Fenrir didn't care, after all, he finally had things to fight!

The first two fallen were missing body parts within seconds of his entry despite the extra tugging feeling caused by the dull edges of the blade, while the rest ran screaming. Except the main one that was tearing off bloody pieces of the downed Rogue. Fenrir swung his sword down on it, thinking it an easy kill. With surprising speed, the fallen dodged the attack by a hair's breadth. Fenrir's swing found only dirt, while his eyes quickly locked with his foe's. This was no ordinary Fallen. This was an alpha the pack, not one to be taken lightly.

Fenrir growled in challenge, taking a more defensive low crouched position that he knew of. While he was more skilled at fighting with a scythe, he had learn a trick or two from the fighting arena down in Kingsport.

The Fallen alpha rose to it's full height. It was tall. Kind of, at least compared to the average fallen, in other words it was as tall as the middle of Fenrir's chest. It let out a an actual slightly throaty higher pitched roar, fresh human blood, flesh and and demon spit flying from it's mouth.

'Fenrir!' cried Erica from the outside the barn, her voice slightly tinged with worry 'We may have a problem.'

Fenrir could see that, the rest of the Fallen were moving towards him, their shock fading. He breathed, clearing his head for less than a spilt second, then went right back to needing unleash his temper 'You don't say, FireFingers! Tell you what, you can handle those two on the right, I'll take the "big" one and I'll tear apart the rest, think you can handle that?' he shouted back.

There was the familiar sound of a "WOOSH", a few Fallen screams along with the sound of a staff thwacking a Fallen's skull.

'My name is Erica!' "WACK" 'I have my own problems out here! Be careful-` "BOOM" '-I can sense some magic coming from inside!' "FWOOSH" More Fallen cries came from outside.

'Yea, mine-' Fenrir started to say before the Alpha and his pack attacked at a speed that would of defied the eyes of a lesser man. Fenrir might of died at least five times in the opening moments of that attack, might of. Only his druidicly heightened senses, training and instincts saved him from getting clobbered or skewered. He still received a few nasty lumps from from some of the Fallen with clubs and one or two shallow cuts from the ones using ugly sharp mini cutlass like blades.

Fenrir fell back against a wall of the barn and growled. The Fallen attacked en mass again, this time though, Fenrir was ready for their unnatural speed. The first Fallen to enter his range found it's head split in half, pieces of it brain and blood spilling onto the ground. The sword almost got stuck in the Fallen's head, the minor delay nearly left Fenrir open to the next Fallen attacking with an over head swing. The Druid blocked the strike with his buckler, the impact denting the already deteriorating piece of metal, and sending small tremors up his arm. Fenrir swung his blade low and cut open the small devil's stomach. With it's insides trying to get outside, the Fallen screamed in pain and fear, dropped it's weapon, desperately trying to keep them in, sent flying into a following Fallen by Fenrir's kick to it's wound, killing it and pinning down/stunning the Fallen it collided with. That was enough to make the alpha and three of the remaining Fallen run to the other side of the barn as Fenrir cleaved the one mobile Fallen stupid enough to continue the attack down the chest then dispatched the trapped one by stabbing it through it's chest.

The sounds of the fighting outside were dying down, but Fenrir didn't care. The stench of blood, the feeling of it's warm spray had ignited the feral fury the Druid elders had futilely tried to teach Fenrir control. It filled him with strength and numbed the bites and throbs of his minor wounds. There were four more sickened mongrel intruders to his territory, they would not be intruding much longer. Fenrir let another growl, this one filled with blood-lust and went one the attack, determined to end the suffering of the creatures facing him.

The Fallen fought back desperately, one fell from a slash to the throat, but without avail, the other two lesser Fallen fell with their backs split wide as they tried to flee. The blood spreading and making the ground a little uncertain, the large Fallen went in for a final attack, it's blow met the buckler. The buckler split under the force as the alpha's blade dug into Fenrir's arm, slicing flesh and just grazing the bone. Fenrir merely jerked his arm away and replied with a slash of his own, taking the Fallen's head from it's body.

With that it was over. Fenrir almost howled to his victory, but the medallion on his chest burned hot suddenly, taking his fury and strength, forcing him to stagger to a wall to remain standing as exhaustion introduced itself. His arm shield arm hung useless in pain as he panted, trying to catch his breath.

'Fenrir!' Erica rushed in, looking tired and breathing heavily, but ready for an attack.

'Still here Firefingers, what did you expect.' muttered Fenrir between heavy breaths. 'Though, I can't say the same... for the other guys.'

She looked over at him in the shadows, irritated yet concerned. 'You're hurt! Do you need a healing potion?'

Fenrir regained his breath, stabbed the sword into the wall and reached into his sash, grabbing a small red vial. 'Got my own, but if you think I'm hurt, take a look around at the other guys. But you might wanna ask the Rogue that.' he said, gesturing around with the health potion and smirking before downing it quickly as Erica moved to aid the dying Rogue.

He'd had enough health potions by now to be used to muscling his way past the gag reflex that came from the taste, barely. It tasted like how burning hair smelled, horrid. Funny thing was that health potions were supposed to taste like something the individual who drank it found delicious. Not him. He took some comfort that "Firefingers", as Fenrir had resolved to call her, was busy trying to save the Rogue so that she could not see the face he made as he drank the potion. Then it went to work, speeding his body's natural healing well over five times the normal mending time. The itches from the sped healing kicked in as a gentle warmth unlike the heat of the his blood fury spread through his body, reaching for Fenrir's wounds. His cuts closed up, bones mended and bruises faded.

With his arm healed, Fenrir quickly discarded the worthless, split scrap that had once been a buckler as well as the club, he didn't need them. Then yanked the short sword from the wall, putting it in the loop he'd used for the club.

Then he turned to where "Firefingers" was doing her best to ease the Rogue's pain using health potions with little success. The only reason the Rogue was still alive was because the Fallen had shoved a sword into her guts, plugging a ragged gaping red hole partially. Fenrir snarled in disgust, the rabid things had wanted her to suffer before she died, and that she had.

Her legs were twisted at odd angles with gashes where puncturing, glistening bits of reddened white bone had broken through her skin. One of her arms was missing, no doubt distributed around the various Fallen's stomachs, her other was still attached, with bite sized chunks missing. Her face retained some of the beauty the Rogue sisterhood was known for, but was obscured for the most part by dried blood that covered most of the right side of her face, mixing with her long brown hair, her right eye sealed shut by the flood. Her open unhurt blue eye looked at her late saviours with a dying light, her eyelids barely staying open. Fenrir was wrong, he'd insulted rabid animals for comparing them to this brutality. His fury almost flared again, only stopped by the mistletoe wolfhead medalion on his chest heating up and absorbing it, before cooling. The amulet was his last connection to Scosglen, given to him by the elders to aid in his training to master his fury. Fenrir pushed away the memories, not now, preferably never.

'Please...' was all the Rogue said with a weak, weary voice. She feebly pushed away the minor health potion Erica was holding to her mouth with her trembling hand and grabbed something hidden in the hay. A sealed scroll. She pushed it into Erica's hands, leaving a drying red incomplete hand print on the parchment.

'Take it to Akara...' she coughed up blood, '...at the Rogue camp near-' more coughing with more blood.

'Very well. We'll get it done .' said Fenrir as he knelt beside Erica.

The Rogue pulled off her necklace, and tried give it to Erica but dropped it. Fenrir quickly picked it up. It was a stone engraved with an eye, overlooking two women holding bows who appeared to be guarding a gate of sorts.

'I understand.' was all that Fenrir said. The Rogue shot them a thankful look, which turned into a blank dead stare as the last light in her eye darkened. It had felt like an eternity, even though it'd been only a minute. Fenrir closed her eye and gave a respectful nod, before standing.

The blood that had sprayed him was now dry and crusty, some of it was starting to flake off. Fenrir grimaced, he must look a bit like a nightmare. He looked down at Erica, who was looking a little pale. He noticed that from the looks of her, she was around the same age he was, about nineteen summers, but then again, you could never be sure about most mages, even the Zann Esu. But this was neither the time or place.

'You alright Firefingers?' he asked her. That seemed to get some life back into her.

'I told you, it's Erica, but yes, I'm fine. Just... some bad memories, that's all.'

'Okay then, whenever you're ready, get yourself and your stuff together and we'll go try to find this Rogue emcampment. I'll be by the well, washing some of this off.' Fenrir said, brushing some of the dried blood off his left arm, shield arm, and walking out of the barn to the well near the now smouldering ruin of a house leaving Erica to recover.

He felt the medallion the Rogue had given him, it was still in his hand. Fenrir looked at it again, this time feeling some groves in the back of the stone. He turned it over, it was a name: _Alyssa. _It must of been the Rogue's name. 'Hunt well with the the wind, Alyssa.' thought Fenrir as the wind seemly stired in response. The storm had passed now. Fenrir, quickly put the pendant into his coin pouch, regretfully empty, save for about ten gold pieces

Fenrir pulled a bucket of water from the well and was about to poor it on himself, when he heard someone walking up to him.

'One second Fire-'

'Braaaaaaaaaains' came a foul breath and he turned to see the farmer, axe still lodged in his head, throw himself on Fenrir.

The ground met them with the farmer trying to take a bite of the druid. Fenrir looked into the man's eyes and saw only a pale rotted white glaring back at him. Only his left hand, placed on the farmer's, no, the thing's throat prevented it's teeth from making contact with Fenrir's face, which it pushed a with strength that defied it's current state.

'What the f-' Fenrir started when the thing breathed. Despite being certainly dead, Fenrir couldn't feel any blood pounding through the thing's throat, it breathed and Fenrir got the full whiff to his face. It smelled worse then the health potions tasted, like a rotted bloated corpse, even though this one had only been dead for a few hours. That was how it might of smelled for a normal man, for Fenrir with his sensitive nose, it was somewhat magnified, to the point he could taste the foul smell in his mouth. Fenrir gagged, nearly vomiting, allow the Zombie's mouth to inch closer, foul warm sliva dripping. Fenrir's right hand felt around for something that could be used to crush the Zombie's head as quick as it could, his lone wolf pride not permitting him to alert Erica. Finding nothing, Fenrir grabbed the Fallen axe embedded in the Zombie's head and ripped it out, pulling bits of red and grey with it and slamed it back in the side of the thing's head. It was an awkward grip, holding it upside down, so it didn't knock the Zombie off, but it stunned it enough that Fenrir could push it back a bit, change his grip on the axe and yanked it back out, taking some more pieces of the Zombie's head. Then he reached back and nailed the Zombie's head with a full swing this time. That knocked it off, but didn't quite kill it, it was trying to get to it's feet as Fenrir got to his.

'Fenrir, move!'

'You've got to jesting me.' he growled, ignoring Erica, before ripping the axe out a final time and burying it deep into the Zombie's brain. It moved no more, although, to be safe, Erica fire bolted the corpse.

Fenrir quickly poured a couple of buckets of well water on himself, repeatedly. He was still gagging and spitting to try and clear the taste out of his mouth.

'Great, now I'm going to be tasting corpse for weeks.' he complained as he shook himself like a dog to dry off.

'Well, good to see you're okay.' commented Erica, ' but why didn't you call for help?'

'I had it under control Firefingers.' he retorted as he rung his "tail" dry.

She let out an annoyed breath, 'Of course you did. Are you ready to go?'

'Just one more thing.' said Fenrir as he ran off to the ruined house, grabbing a soldering piece of wood, then disappearing into the barn. Fenrir exited the barn as flames came to life in the barn behind him, a farming scythe resting on his right shoulder his right hand holding the middle of the shaft steadying it. The short sword gone from it's short lived place on his waist, and wearing a look of careful contentment.

'I prefer to use scythes and I felt that the forest would be better off without the remains of those demons fouling everything up.' Fenrir explained 'Now let's go.'

'Lets?' asked Erica, a slightly confused look on her face. 'Forgive me, but I got the impression you wanted to head off on your own.'

'Who said I don't, but someone has to make sure you don't accidentally fry that scroll. Besides this Rogue encampment sounds like a good place to find some of the paid kind of work my skills are suited for.'

'Paid? Aren't druids-' Erica started before Fenrir intercepted her

'Also when that Rogue gave me that pendant, I think she wanted me to give it to the lady she mentioned to you. So, let's go find this place already Firefingers' as he started moving north.

Erica followed in pursuit. 'I told you, it's Erica!' as the flames consumed the barn and it's contents.

** Author's bit: Hey again. With this ends the Prologue, now we'll get to the actual game. Don't worry, I'll introduce the rest of the class characters in the next chapter. A heads up, I am going to be messing around with the story a bit, you'll know it when you see it. But most of the story should follow Diablo 2 + LOD.**

**In that note, anything that sounds like it's from D2 or LOD, probably is. I don't own D2 or LOD (I do have my own copy of the game of course) , all rights go to Blizzard (even if they did drop the ball a little bit with D3). And as I said before, PM me with any questions about the story. Give reviews, tell me where I might do better, all that. But most importantly, enjoy! I'll see ya later.**


	4. Chapter 4 The Rogue Encampment, Part 1

'How long are you going to keep calling me that?'

They'd been walking north for a few hours, getting attacked a few times by Fallen,a few Zombies and various corrupted wild beasts, with quillfiends being the most common. So they'd had very little trouble, aside from the fact they had no idea where the Rogue encampment was. It didn't help that Fenrir's nose was still somewhat traumatized from the large dose of zombie breath. He'd had to reduce most of his senses to not feel sick, only his hearing and sight were still enhanced.

'Sorry Firefingers, calling you what?' asked Fenrir, innocently, with a barley contained laugh as they walked on, his grey hair blowing in the wind. They'd left the woods behind maybe an hour ago, and were now trudging through the growing dark in a moor of sorts.

'That!' came the frustrated reply. After hours of being called "Firefingers", Erica's patience was fading fast.

'You'll have to be a bit more specific then just "That", Firefingers.' He had to look away to hide his grin. He'd made it point to get under her skin as much as he could get away with every step of the way. If it was the fact that she'd nearly blasted him when they met, or the fact that she hadn't even noticed that she'd almost blasted him or if it was because how druid's felt towards most spellcasters, or just all three, it really didn't matter to Fenrir at this point. After all, nothing helps a bad mood like spreading it around, and it was kind of fun too. While the elders back at Scosglen would have more than likely put Fenrir in his place, they weren't here. As such, Fenrir could pick up a few traits from city animals, without any interference. Suffice to say, he'd learned well from the felines that owned the cities, from the shadows of course, wisely letting the humans believe they ruled.

Erica groaned, 'My name is Erica! Stop calling me...' she hesitated, then sighed 'Firefingers. I only used the fire spell imbuded in the staff, I swear I'm going to get rid of it the next chance I get.' with a hint of defeat and spite as they continued to walk on.

Time for the reserves. 'Okay then, I've got a new one I've been wanting to try, how about Flamebrain?' With that, the prey is cornered, mused Fenrir with a smirk.

'Just go back to "Firefingers" you primitive.' Now her temper was starting to rise. Fenrir realized that now was a good time to ease off although Erica needed to work out how to actually insult him.

'Whatever you say then.'

They stopped for the night in an area of solid, some what rocky dryish ground.

'We'll just have to look in the morning, we're lucky we didn't get ambushed. I can't see much beyond the flames I can conjure.' said Erica

'Speak for yourself Firefingers.' said Fenrir, as he plopped down on the ground, examining his recently acquired scythe. While making him colour blind, the enhancing to his eyes allowed him to have near perfect night vision. Erica's flames had just annoyed him, without meaning to.

'Sorry, what?' asked Erica as she set herself down, close, but not too close to Fenrir.

Knowing she'd probably start asking about his magic again, Fenrir quickly said something else instead.

'I was just wondering how that Rogue expected us to find this place.' looking towards the Sorceress

Erica looked thoughtful for a moment and sighed. 'Maybe they'll find us. By the way, you never answered my question.'

'Which one?' she'd pestered him with more than a few questions about various things, mostly concerning Druids, as well as Scosglen. He'd either ignored or dodged most of the questions, answering one or two that seemed harmless.

'The one about how long you're going to keep calling me that moronic nickname.' she was starting to get the hang of the web of conversation with Fenrir. Some of her people skills naivete was starting to disappear.

'Meh, only until we part ways or it stops vexing you so much.' Fenrir was grinning wolfishly, and he really hoped that Erica couldn't see like she said.

She just let out a sound of disgust and laid down, her back facing Fenrir. 'That's it, I'm going to sleep.'

'Night Firefingers' said Fenrir, then he went back to examining scythe after Erica didn't reply. The scythe was in reasonable condition, at least for farming. While it did well against opponents so far, Fenrir doubted it would last long against more creatures like that Fallen Alpha, or anything that actually knew how to fight. The shaft needed reinforcing and the blade was only sharp enough to cut down a farmer's harvest, not beings of flesh, hell-spawn and other nightmares. Since Fenrir had used a scythe most of the time before the mess in Kingsport, it'd made more sense to use this over a dull short sword. Fenrir gave the scythe a quick cleaning, set it down gently, then took a quick look in his coin pouch, there wasn't much. He'd be lucky to by a whetstone off a kind blacksmith with less than ten coins. There was also the pendant that Alyssa had given him. While he wasn't the most respectful Druid, he certainly wasn't that low, so selling it was not an option. Seeing the pendant reminded him of his last connection to Scosglen. He took out his amulet from it's hiding place beneath the skins he wore and looked at it with a scowl of anger and frustration.

The damned beautifully wolf's head carving, sprinkled with crushed mistletoe, fitting in the palm of his hand, was supposed to help him control his power, but when he'd needed it most, it had done nothing. Maybe if it had, things would be different, maybe... No, what's done is done, move on he told himself. At least he now knew it worked, some of the time. He closed his hand, gripping the amulet tightly, letting out a silent growl, then breathed, releasing some of the emotions bottled up. The rest retreated to the maelstrom he kept locked up. Some druid spiritual and self control teachings had stuck, but not much.

He let the spell enhancing his vision fade, allowing colour and darkness to return, and looked up to the sky, seeing a faint red glow, that cursed glow, struggling to pierce the blockade of clouds.

Scowling, Fenrir restored the vision enhancement, got up, picked up his scythe and jammed it into a patch of soft earth silently, then sat down again, using the scythe as a back rest. With Erica asleep, he was going to have to keep a look out for whatever might come for a treat. Might as well try to meditate, without falling asleep for once.

That didn't work, so he just sat there and looked around listening. There was very little sound other than a few remaining crickets, most of the animals having fled, died or been corrupted. Although in the distance, he thought he heard a lone wolf howl, mournfully bringing with the sound, a feeling of sympathy and understanding in Fenrir. Then he heard a humanoid foot step in a puddle near by.

Fenrir immediately jumped to his feet, ripped the scythe out of it's resting place and prepared for an attack.

'Firefingers get up now, we've got company!' he roared, and listened to her scramble to her feet.

'Where?!' Erica asked moving so her back was close to his, beginning to channel her mana to power the staff's enchantment.

The ambushers gave up all attempts at stealth for increased speed. Fenrir's eyes darted through the darkness as he quickly glanced over his shoulders, picking up movement all around them. Whoever or whatever these attackers were, they were good, Fenrir had to give them credit.

'We're surrounded. Tip, don't aim for me and keep your distance once I start swinging.' He told Erica over his shoulder, grinning. Time for him to vent a little more. The attackers weren't getting any closer. So he was going to have go to them. Flipping the scythe so that it's head was hovering near the ground and the blade was facing out, Fenrir attacked. He didn't get very far before stars appeared from nowhere, right before his eyes, blinding him. He almost tripped and staggered, shaking the bright spots from his eyes. A surprised cry from Erica told him the same had more than likely happened to her, but he couldn't worry about that right now. Fenrir quickly recovered and was about to renew his charge when a stern female voice, tinged with caution and weariness spoke.

'Lower your weapons and tell us why two outsiders dare enter our land, or we can just shoot you and be done with it. Speak quickly!'

Fenrir, having never been good at dealing with orders and rules, quickly threw back a challenging snarl. 'And who are you to claim this as "your" land, attacking travellers in the night like common thugs?'

'Fenrir!' Erica hissed, a little more concerned for her safety than he was for his.

Fenrir got his reply in the form of an expertly shot arrow, whistling past his face, close enough to leave a thin faint red line of blood from a graze along his right cheekbone, just missing his earlobe. That got his attention.

'Sorceress, order your dog to behave, or the next arrow will enter his eye socket!. We are Sisters of the Sightless Eye, and you are trespassing.' came the voice again, more threatening this time.'

Erica didn't have to bother, With a resentful 'Yea yea, I got it.' Fenrir stuck the blade of his scythe into the ground, careful to leave the shaft in easy reach should things go more sour.

'Just my luck.' he muttered as their opponents used some their power to light a small area.


	5. Chapter 5 The Rogue Encampment, Part 2

Fenrir blinked as their immediate surroundings lit up. Now that they were lit targets, he found his meagre humour dwindling rapidly as his instincts were screaming at him to retreat to safety of the shadows as soon as he could. However before he could do or say something stupid to piss off the already on edge Rogues more, Erica spoke up.

'Peace Sisters of the Sightless Eye, we mean no offence. I am Erica Lam, of the Zann Esu mage clan, and my irritating temporary travelling companion behind me is Fenrir Blackclaw, of the Druids.'

Fenrir was somewhat surprised by Erica's sudden confident front. All that time walking alone with her had made him think she was clumsy and awkward when it came to talking to people. Although, considering their situation, it was probably because she'd only been with him. Fenrir had never been a good conversationalist, beyond name calling and challenging people that is. Fenrir kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the Rogues still aiming, though he quickly looked at his fingers after quickly brushing the cut on his cheek from the arrow shot. There was a fine thin line of a drying warm wetness. He was still colour blind from his enhancement, so there was little he could see of the red that darkened on his finger tips. He move his hand closer to his scythe, carefully, rubbing his fingers in his hand together to wipe off the blood. As far as first impressions went, this one was only slightly worse than his meeting with Erica. He wasn't holding these particular Rogues in high regard as a result.

'And what business would a witch and a beast have in our lands?'

Fenrir's patience wore off as his temper kicked in and he quickly interrupted whatever Erica was about to say.

'Shouldn't the "beast" be more uncivilized than the nameless bow bitches threatening two people that where sent here to help them? I may be animal, but at least I'm talking in the light with my face revealed. If which ever one of you ladies...' Fenrir said that hesitantly, feeling that the term "ladies" didn't exactly apply much here but going with it anyways, '... is speaking could kindly introduce herself and step forward, that would be great. Or I can go with calling the lot of you Bow Bitches and gesture to which ever one in particular I'm speaking to. Seems a rather catchy title, don't ya think Firefingers?'

He could feel the look of horror and surprise on the back of his head from Erica, as well as the dagger-like looks he earned from the Rogues. He even heard more than a few bowstring being drawn taunt.

'Fenrir, what in the name of all the elements are you trying to do? ' Erica hissed

'Making a point that I'm not "_your_" dog for starters.' he growled back

'By getting us killed for your petty pride?'

'It'd be an improvement.'

Just then one of the Rogues shouldered her bow and stepped forward, into the light. Like everyone else Fenrir had met, she was shorter than him, but around a normal height for a woman. Her form was quite appealing to the eye, slim and fit wearing leather and cloth armour that seem to complement her physique, although the armor had many gashes and tears. Most of her light brown hair was tied in a ponytail, but some of it obscured her left side of her face. The one eye he could see was brown and piercing like that of a hawk, but from it Fenrir could sense some weariness, anger and despair along with something else he couldn't identify. Almost similar to eyes of beasts forced to fight in arenas he'd come across, only without the madness of being tortured for so long. Not truly living but sure as hell not dying without a hell of a fight. Something had happened in these lands, something that was corrupting the forests and trapping these Rogues.

'I am Flavie, that should satisfy you. Now tell us who sent you to do what and why, then I'll have some of my Rogues escort you out of our lands. If they don't fill you full of arrows first.' said the Rogue, crossing her arms.

Erica turned around and moved beside Fenrir, carefully as to avoid getting shot.

'We were sent to find the Rogue Encampment, to deliver this to someone named Akara.' Erica explained, holding up the sealed scroll.

'And the one one who sent you, where this person?'

'She's dead. Killed by Fallen. She was one of your order.' answered Fenrir this time.

'What makes you sure of that?' asked Flavie, with a hint of scepticism and dread.

'This does.' Fenrir pulled out the medallion for Flavie to see, holding the rope to let it dangle. 'The Rogue's name, judging by this, was Alyssa.' he said, putting it back in his pouch.

'What?' Flavie looked stunned, Fenrir could hear some of the other Rogues taking shallow panicked breaths. He even heard 'If she's dead now, what chance do we stand?' along with a few other dismayed comments being muttered. Flavie, however recovered herself quickly enough and returned to looking at them with a stone faced expression. Albeit with a sense of loss being more evident in her voice when she spoke.

'That will be... difficult to tell the others back at camp. Though I am not happy for the news, I thank you for it. I ask that you give me the scroll and Alyssa's name stone, your task is done. I'll have two of my sisters lead you out of our lands without harm.' she said, stepping forward to collect the items

However Fenrir held up his left hand indicating her to stop. 'Tempting as it is to leave, no. The way my eyes see it is this. You and yours are like robins being hunted by a great storm eagle. While the robins may put up a fight, maybe even irritating it somewhat, the outcome is obvious. The eagle is going to get it's meal. You people need help.' Fenrir glared at Flavie, the improvements to his eyes making them seem to glow and shine, even in the light. Flavie was bristling, and about to retort when Fenrir continued 'Also, I'm not in the habit of finishing things half way, especially a request like this one. Instead get your Rogues to guide us to the camp.' he said 'Unlike most humans, my eyes never lie.' Fenrir added, just for good measure.

Erica stepped up next. 'Though I've had my fill of him, I must agree with Fenrir. I will not leave here, I have business here, along with this task.'

Flavie let out a disgusted sigh. 'So be it outlanders. Elly, Kyle, come forth! The rest of you stand down and return to your posts!' Two of the Rogues stepped up, shouldering their bows, as the rest merely lowered their own and carefully withdrew, Fenrir watching them, wary. As they left, the light source faded somewhat. The two Rogues were of similar height slightly shorter than Flavie. They wore form fitting leather armor much like that of their commander, although with slightly less gashes in their armor. Fenrir got the feeling Elly and Kyle were twins, they looked very much like each other, only their light brown hair was different, one of them had theirs cut short while the other had what was left of a messy braid. Their brown eyes were down cast, yet still had some fight, but not much.

'Escort the outlanders to our camp as quickly as you can, then return. If Alyssa is dead, then we will have our work cut out for us.' Was all Flavie said, then she quickly turned and vanished from view, even from Fenrir's eyes. An impressive feat.

'Come.' Was all the one Fenrir guessed the one called Kyle said, the one with the short hair with a voice that was felt empty. She turned and started walking, her magic lighting her way. Fenrir glanced over at Erica, shrugged and picked up his scythe, letting it rest over his shoulder, before fallowing. He heard the foot steps of Erica and the other Rogue behind him. As they walked, it began to rain once more, all the while, the light of the sun struggled desperately to return to the darkening world.


	6. Chapter 6 The Rogue Encampment, Part 3

They arrived at the encampment just after dawn, not that one could tell with all the storm clouds in the sky,. It just seemed lighter than before and the rain had taken another respite. The camp was located by a river, with a single bridge leading into the camp. That appeared to be the only entrance to the camp, the other directions were cut off by a wooden wall. Fenrir couldn't see much else aside from the woods that surrounded the camp, some of it having been cleared to make the stockade.

As they crossed the bridge, their guides gave Fenrir a glare, and gave Erica a quick nod farewell, before turning back in the direction they came. Fenrir watched them go as Erica walked on, then shrugged and followed. There was one Rogue guarding the bridge. She merely gave them a quick glance as they passed. Odd, Fenrir had expected a hostile greeting similar to the one they'd received in the moor. As they passed through the choke-point that was the entrance he quickly saw why. The sisters were camping with a caravan for supplies, so and extra outsider or two wouldn't make a difference. Now they just needed to ask someone where to find Akara.

They walked towards the center of the camp, a large campfire area. Along the way they passed a couple tents, the larger one was filled with beds, a few filled with injured, but most empty and a couple of Rogues guarding. Fenrir didn't like the look in their eyes. Their eyes reminded him of caged livestock, creatures who knew they were about to die and could do anything about it. Fenrir moved on not wanting to see more while they looked at his scythe, with caution. Seeing that they were reasonably safe, Fenrir blinked hard to released the spell augmenting his sight. Handy as it was to see clearly in the dark, Fenrir preferred to see the full range of colors the world had to offer. As they approached the fire, they were greeted by a man wearing a small tuban and dressed in grey and blue clothes that were simple yet exotic to this region. His face was welcoming, kind of a nice change as of late.

'Greetings strangers, I am Warriv. I'm not surprised to see your kind here. Many adventurers have travelled this way since the recent troubles began. Some are even still here.'

'Warriv, I am Fenrir, and this is Firefingers-' 'Erica!' the Sorceress interjected, allowing Fenrir a slight grin before continuing. 'What is going on around here?'

Warriv looked confused. 'Surely you've heard about the tragedy that befell the town of Tristram. Why some even say that Diablo, the Lord of Terror walks the world again.'

The very air around them seemed to cool and the light of day grew slightly dimmer for and instant while chills ran up Fenrir's spine. Then, like a passing gale, the sensation vanished. Fenrir slid the scythe off his shoulder and buried it's sharp tip into the earth then looked over at Erica and saw that he had not been alone in feeling the power the mere name of one of the Prime Evil's had and shook off a shudder. Erica while doing her best hiding it well, was rattled by the force as well. Her light brown face had gone slightly pale. Then she stuttered slightly when she spoke up.

'T-that's not possible. There's no way one of the Prime Evils could be free, not without the coven mothers knowing it.'

Warriv, numb to the effects of the name shrugged and said 'I don't know if I believe it myself, but a dark wanderer did travel this route a few weeks ago.'

Fenrir stopped listening, he felt he was being watched, fiercely. While it wasn't odd for him to be stared at as he did stand out with his height and premature grey hair this feeling was different. Like a feeling that something being hunted would feel. He quickly looked over his shoulder and saw a woman in a red hood and chain mail with knee high boots, glaring with at him, like she was trying to come up with the ideal way to kill him quick should things turn sour. So he returned the stare in turn. She continued the contest until she seemed to of felt that made her point in letting him know he was being watched. Fenrir just shook his head and returned his attention to Warriv and Erica. Although he still had a feeling there was someone else watching him and Erica from the shadows.

'You should talk to Akara too. She seems to be the leader of this camp. Maybe she can tell you more. Her tent is by the entrance to the camp, you passed it on your way in.' concluded Warriv, helpfully pointing towards a small brown tent by the river.

'Thank you.' said Erica then she turned and headed towards the tent Warriv had indicated, Fenrir following, with his scythe back on his shoulder.

'I know this may sound stupid, but can't you put that somewhere else?' asked Erica, taking note of a few worried glances their way.

'Right away Firefingers, just let me used my sheath. Oh wait, it got ripped off back in Kingsport.' Fenrir snapped, his temper surging.

'What?' Erica turned at Fenrir, confused. Fenrir's eyes widened at his mistake.

'Forget it, it was nothing.'He quickly brushed past Erica, heading for Akara's tent. Fenrir need food and some sleep, today had just put him on edge. First demons then a sorceress followed by more demons and a corpse. Not a good way to make a journey. The sooner he finished this task, the sooner he could move on and put everything that had happened, behind him. He felt his stomach growling, it had finally recovered it's appetite after that first encounter with the zombie. He really needed to check how much gold he had to spend.

His attention was drawn to the form that stepped out of the tent. She was clothed in a flowing black dress with a violet cloak drawn over her head. The cloak was bound by and ornate pin in the shape of an eye, with an emerald gemstone set as the eye's pupil, set at the nape of her neck. She wore an amulet like the one Alyssa had given Fenrir and those he'd seen on other Rogues necks. Though her clothes were no doubt of high quality, they had seen a lot of wear and tear as of late. She was in her autumn years, winkles beginning to appear, though she still had much in the way of appeal to the eye but Fenrir could see that her face was full of weariness and loss and there was sadness in her brown eyes. She took notice of the approaching travellers and move to greet them, her attention focused on Erica.

'Greetings young Sorceress, it's good to see more of your kind here in these dark days. The world needs more women to fight against the great shadow in my opinion, but I am forgetting my manners.' she said, in a voice tempered by age, wisdom and experience with a hint of relief yet tinged with grief. Fenrir, was somewhat irked at being overlooked again. Then she addressed them both.

'I am Akara, High Priestess of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye. I welcome you travellers to our camp, but I'm afraid I can only offer you but poor shelter within these rickety walls.'

'My thanks for your welcome High Priestess Akara.' said Erica politely. 'We were sent here to give you this scroll and pendant by the last request of a Rogue.' she handed Akara the scroll, still sealed, while Fenrir put down his scythe, took out the pendant and gave it to Akara as well. Akara quickly turned the pendant over. With a reluctant sigh of acceptance, she closed her eyes and shook her head.

'So she is dead. I had feared as much. What was her fate?' she asked, the question and her voice hollow.

'She has passed. How it happened doesn't help anything.' stated Fenrir firmly, not wanting to go into detail.

Erica looked at Fenrir, aghast, yet understanding, while he just ignored her.

'Very well. On her behalf though I thank you. Rest awhile in the safety of our camp. We may not have much to offer, but the least we can do is offer you what we have. Also stranger,' she addressed Fenrir 'perhaps our blacksmith may be of assistance to you. You can find her forge on the other side of the camp.' Akara pointed towards a wooden structure. 'Before you go, may I have your name stranger?'

The druid picked up his scythe and turned to go 'Fenrir.' Then over his shoulder, 'Guess this is farewell Firefingers.' and started walking.

'For the last time it's Erica! Good riddance.' she said before turning her head and continuing to talk with Akara. Fenrir snorted and headed for the blacksmith. The sound of ringing steel told him he was headed in the right direction.

Once more, the feeling he was being hunted appeared. This time applying his vision enhancement, Fenrir looked around again, this time catching a glimpse of a lithe formed shadow before it disappeared. He growled silently, clenching his empty hand into a fist and gripping his scythe tight. He took one look at the area where he'd seen the shadow, then moved on. How he hated not being able to rely on his nose! He could never understand how normal humans managed to survive like this.

When he arrived at the black smith, he was surprised. What he'd expected was some sort of big, burly bear of a man to be the camp's blacksmith. What he got was a young, heavily muscled, tall brownish blonde woman. Fenrir had seen that most women in these lands were treated more like potted flowers than actual people, not expected do much beyond indoor work and mating. Although, it made sense in a way. If the sisterhood had a militant sisters, then it would more than likely have blacksmith sisters.

Her gender mattered little to Fenrir though, he was only concerned by her skill. Still, it worried him that he'd been surprised. Maybe he'd spent to much time in "civilized" lands.

Fenrir noted that she wore very little aside from a thick forge appron, heavy pants and boots, as well as what appeared to be wrappings covering her chest. Her long hair was tied in a ponytail, allowing her an unobstructed view of her work. She took the blade she was working and thrust it into a barrel of water, steam rising. Then she turned to Fenrir.

'Oh hi there. I'm Charsi, the Blacksmith here in camp.' Her voice was kind and warm. There was also a spark off light in her eyes. Hope perhaps? If so, then she was the only sister seemingly naive enough to hold on to it. She was a sister, Fenrir could see the pendant around her neck. Also, now that she was now longer hunched over the forge, she was as tall as he was.

'Hi. I was told you might be able to help me. Any chance you can make a sheath for my scythe? Also how much would it cost to enhance the scythe?' Fenrir asked.

'Sure! No problem. I'll need the scythe for a bit, in order to get the measurements of the sheath and all that. Where did you get that anyways?'

'From a farm.' Fenrir shrugged the scythe off his shoulder and adjusted his grip on it. Giving it to Charsi shaft first. She looked it over.

'Alright, it shouldn't take too long to make a sheath. As for enhancement, the shaft needs a lot of reinforcing and the blade needs to be sharpened. I'm guessing about fifty gold pieces for that and five gold for the sheath.'

That was much cheaper than what Fenrir had expected. He quickly looked in his gold pouch. There was a slight problem. He only had twenty gold.

'Can I buy sharpening stones off of you then?'

'Sharpening stones? Oh you mean whetstones. Ok. I do have a few spares, so I can give you one.'

'Yes, one of those and the sheath, that's all I need.'

She told him to come back in a little bit, the sheath would be ready then. Fenrir paid her fees, then asked if there was anywhere to get food. Charsi pointed him in the direction of the large tent. Fenrir nodded his thanks and left Charsi to her work. When he got to the tent, Fenrir heard a loud deep masculine voice from inside that similar to the on of the man Fenrir blamed his troubles on.

'No, there's no damned way that could be that oversized muscle head!' He growled to himself. Grimacing at the thought of meeting that man again, Fenrir pulled the flap aside and stepped inside.

It was.

**Authors bit: Hey, It's been awhile. The intro to the Rogue Encampment is taking long then I thought it would. Anyways, WOOT! over 200 views as it is now! Thanks a lot. I know it's not much, but hey, it's something. It's going way better than I thought it would. Although, it would be great if I got some more reviews for all my hard work. Reviews please, please please.**

** I'm guessing that more than a few Diablo 2 players are wondering why in the hells I'm starting Fenrir off with a scythe in act 1. Simple, because it kinda makes more sense then to have a character who knows how to handle every single weapon he finds. And why go with a scythe wielding druid. Personal reasons really. I like scythes, they're pretty awesome and badass. One does not simply fuck with a scythe wielder. I use Ruby Rose from RWBY and Death from Darksiders 2 to prove my point. **

**Thank you so much for reading so far. Have a great day/night and see ya all later!**


	7. Chapter 7 The Rogue Encampment, Part 4

The Barbarian exiting the tent towered over Fenrir by a full head as the druid collided with the living mountain of muscled pale skin with blue war paint decorating it with patterns. Fenrir staggered back from the impact and looked up at the man's head that was clean shaven save for a ponytail near the back of his head. There was only one damned person Fenrir had ever met that was taller than him. One damned person that Fenrir really did not ever want to meet again, ever. The very person that stood before him, wearing little beyond a shoulder pad and reninforced leather pants and boots.

Vercingetorix, the three summers champion of the tournament Fenrir had entered in Kingsport. Only one word came to Fenrir's mind, which he quickly uttered, breaking the silence. A word he had learned from the cities of man, but never understood why it was considered offensive. It fit into this situation perfectly though.

'Shit...'

Vercingetorix was surprised to see his former arena adversary.

'Wow, the little wolf.' he said in a deep voice.

'Only when compared to a muscle headed mountain.' Fenrir replied his fists clenching, glaring straight up into the barbarian's brown eyes in challenge. It was not lost on Vercingetorix.

'Didn't a mountain pound you into the dirt, mutt?'

'Last I remember wasn't it an ape being planted?'

'Care to back that up, scavenger?' Vercingetorix took an intimidating posture, stepping forward with his right foot and bending his knees slightly, ready to pounce.

'Only if you can keep up, mold head.' snarled Fenrir, bearing his teeth and taking a similar posture.

The grey clouds above rumbled in anticipation. Both the combatants wanted to finish what had started in the tournament. Each one wanted to see which was the stronger, and also pay back was in the air as well. Eyes were drawn to them, but neither noticed.

Fenrir followed his animal instinct of striking first, his fists landing multiple weak blows on his opponent's mid section before Vercingetorix swept for Fenrir's head with his right fist. Fenrir was already gone. While Vercingetorix was fast despite his size, Fenrir was faster. The only problem for Fenrir was that while he was faster than the barbarian, there was no way he could ever match that muscle monster in strength. They traded blows for a few seconds. Fenrir's hitting with no effect while dodging Vercingetorix's. Then they backed off and circled each other. Fenrir's temper was rising. Hitting the damned mountain was doing nothing, the bastard knew how to take his hits. Fenrir just needed to find a weak spot.

'What? No double axes? You're going to need them.' taunted Fenrir

'Could say the same. Where's that oversized scythe of yours?' came Vercingetorix's retort.

'Ha, what kind of force of nature would need a weapon against someone like you?' spat Fenrir.

Then they went at it again. Fenrir striking at different areas while Vercingetorix's strikes became more well aimed. Fenrir dodged another swinging right with ease, only to barely avoid the follow up left upper cut thanks to his animal reflexes. However the barbarian manage to grab his wolf's tail

and then slugged him with a left fist to the face. Fenrir felt his jaw dislocate from the blow. Stunned, he was helpless to prevent Vercingetorix from locking him in a crushing bear hug. Fenrir's feet were dangling off the ground, his head level with Vercingetorix's.

This must be what it's like to get killed by a rock side, mused part of Fenrir's stunned consciousness, before he shook it off. He was in trouble. He could feel his entire body screaming in pain. His arms were trapped, getting crushed with his upper torso. His ribs wouldn't last much longer. Darkness was beginning to cloud the edges of his vision as air was quickly being forced out of his lungs.

'Yield' said Vercingetorix, his eyes seeing that victory was near.

Fenrir replied by using his head, literally. He whipped his head with as much strength as he could muster, straight onto the bridge of the Barbarian's nose. He was rewarded with a crunch and a lessened pressure from the bear hug. It wasn't enough for Fenrir to break lose but it was enough for him to free his right arm before Vercingetorix began to crush him again. Fenrir however, had found his weak-point.

In the wild, no matter how heavily muscled or protected a creature is, it's throat is almost always vulnerable. That's why most predators will go for it. While before it would of been a risky awkward punch, Fenrir now could strike it with ease. He slammed his fist into Vercingetorix's throat. The Barbarian dropped him as he staggered back, his hands holding his throat, coughing and gagging, before dropping to one knee a short distance away. Fenrir on the other hand lay where he fell, coughing and gasping, desperately trying to regain the air in his lungs that he had lost. Some of his ribs were fractured, judging from the throbbing waves of pain coming from that area. No surprise there, after all Fenrir had seen what Vercingetorix was capable of, after having witnessed overconfident fighters in the tournament get crushed into the dust and nearly experiencing it himself. Fenrir managed to drag himself up into a crouch, seeing the Barbarian recovering. Fenrir rushed in, seizing a chance to end this.

An arrow wizzed through the closing space between the two combatants, burring itself into a torch post to their right, brought Fenrir's attack to a halt.

'Enough!' came a stern commanding shout.

Fenrir quickly became aware of their fight's audience. There were a few who caught his attention out of the onlookers, even Erica was there, but none of them were the owner of the voice. It was the red cloaked Rogue, the one who had been glaring at Fenrir earlier, who'd stopped the fight. She strode up to the druid and the barbarian, a bow with an arrow notched but pointed downwards was in her hands.

'I don't know what your history is, nor do I expect you outlanders to get along. However, within this camp, I will not hesitate to throw out anyone who disturbs order. So you outlanders get one warning. Start trouble again, and the next arrow wont miss.' she said, her voice cold and distrusting. The warning was as much for the other "outlanders" as it was for Fenrir and Vercingetorix. The Rogue in red turned and walked away, the small crowd beginning to dissapate and gave the bow to a strong looking blonde ponytailed woman in a red breast plate that seemed to really highlight her bosom and figure. The Rogue must of borrowed it. The woman who had loaned it seemed familiar to Fenrir, but he didn't look any further. He just wanted to finish off Vercingetorix.

As he was about to attack once more, Fenrir felt a hand with an odd aura on his shoulder, holding him back. He turned his head and was about to roughly shake off the hand when he saw who it belonged to. It was a Priest, or rather a Priestess of Rathma. In other words a Necromancer.

Her face was as pale as a silver moon and her short hair was nearly pure white. The only hint of color her head seemed to have were two pale blue eyes that seemed to gaze into his soul. There was no evil in them, nor was there any good intent. While she seemed to be young, with little wrinkles on her face, her body was thin, as if she had suffered many years of starvation. She wore modest travelling clothes. Her very presence filled Fenrir with unease. Necromancers were the only mages that the Druids came close to respecting. Their ongoing quest to maintain balance taught to them by the legendary nephalem Rathma.

Fenrir felt much of his rage retreat and the pain in his ribs and face replaced the void. Fenrir turned his head back to the barbarian. Vercingetorix snapped his nose back into place and winced slightly. Fenrir's head butt had managed to break his nose, so blood trickled down the barbarian's face. Some woman, with short dark brown hair, wearing hard leather armor and dressed modestly, with a buckler on her arm and a short sword in a sheath, was speaking with him. Vercingetorix just wipped the blood from his face with the back of his hand and gave Fenrir one last spiteful glare. Then he walked off in the direction of the blacksmith. The warrior woman gave Fenrir a quick glance, then walked off.

Fenrir shook of the Necromancer's hand taking a one quick warry look in her direction, before resetting his jaw. It hurt, a lot. He bit back a shout, but some it escaped came out as a small groan. Then the sharp pain was gone, and replaced with the rest of it. Fenrir went for the food tent like nothing was wrong. It hurt like hell.

Once he was inside, Fenrir groaned and held his chest with one arm, the other grabbing a minor health potion from his belt. He downed it as fast a possible. It did it's work quickly, the pain fading as his bones healed and the swelling where Vercingetorix had hit him disappeared. He went over to the man who seemed to be in charge of the food. All Fenrir had money for was bread and water, which was good because that's all they seemed to have. The bread was stale and hard, but it didn't matter, as long as something else took the place of the aftertaste of the potion and filled his stomach. He tore into the bread after taking a seat at the makeshift table, thankfully empty of people. Most were at work at this time.

Fenrir's solitude was interrupted by Erica as she sat down across from him with her own loaf of bread.

'Making friends I see.' She commented, referring to the brawl he just had. Fenrir just continued in his meal, ignoring her.

Erica tore pieces off her bread and ate them. Then tried to continue her one sided conversation.

'It seemed like you and that man knew each other from before.'

Fenrir just sighed 'I thought you said you were through with me. So why are you here pestering me Firefingers?' he asked, looking at her wishing she'd go away.

'My curiosity has taken hold. You say you're a Druid, but I haven't seen you cast a single spell. Also you don't act like one of their kind. I heard they were secluded somewhere in the north, working for peace and balance. You seem more like the rumours a person hears about Barbarians.' she talked in between bites of bread 'Then there's the fact that I've never seen the "natural" powers that are attributed to Druids.'

Fenrir finished off his bread and started on his water. 'You expect me to tell you, a arcane element enslaver, about my kind? Good luck with that Firefingers.' Erica seemed to of resigned herself to being called that by Fenrir.

'I get the feeling that whatever is going on here is going to make us stay in each others company for a while, so at least tell me something about you. Your history with that man you fought maybe?'

Odd, was she trying to become a friend to Fenrir? That wouldn't end well, not if his past had anything to say about it. He just finished off his water and decided to at tell her something to get her off his back.

'That mountain? Only met him a few weeks back in a fighting tournament down in Kingsport. Long story short, we fought and we both lost to each other.' Then he got up and left, his scythe sheath should be ready by this time.

'That's all you're going to say?' Erica had expected a bit more

'What more is there? I want to beat him, he wants to beat me.' Then Fenrir was out of the tent and headed towards the blacksmith before Erica could delve deeper.

He quickly retrieved his scythe plus it's new sheath and some whetstones. Then went by where the wall stopped by the river and sat down to care for his scythe. He was pleased to note that Charsi had done some slight augments to the scythe's shaft, even though he hadn't had the money. He'd have to thank her later. For now, he focused on sharpening the blade. When it was to his satisfaction, he made sure that no one was in the nearby vicinity. Then he began to go through the motions of how he fought with his weapon. To better understand how this scythe would respond to him. He moved against opponents that were not there. the blade cutting the wind as the clouds that blanketed the sky watched and moved. His movements were seemingly elegant and delicate to him, but to the blind eye, it seemed as with the scythe was a deadly current of wind that would easily rend and tear the flesh of anything that got too near. He finished the dance. The scythe could easily handle the foes he'd come across this far, against foes on Vercingetorix's skill level however, it would be more at risk for the shaft to break.

Feeling his weariness beginning to take hold, Fenrir sheathed his scythe, the sheath being a leather cover for the blade with a sling to go over his shoulder and a loop for the shaft. He leaned the scythe on the wall, blade on the ground. Then he sat and put his back to the wall and closed his eyes. Sleep took him, and with it came dreams.

**Author's bit: Hey again, with this chapter, that more or less ends the Rogue Encampment intro. It turned out way longer than I thought it would. Next chapter I'll go into more on the other class characters I mentioned in this one, sorry it took me so long to start introducing them. Any way. Thank you for reading so far and thanks for the views. Later.**


	8. Chapter 8 So It Begins

_He wandered within a northern forest, the snow failing from the sky as a slowly reddening moon light up the night. The cloud wind blew, but it did not bother Fenrir. He looked down and saw that his arms had grown longer and were covered in grey fur that warmed him. His ears perked as he heard the sounds of the wild. He sniffed the air for a sent, something to hunt, his canine nose taking in the air. His eyes picked up fast familiar lithe forms moving in the darkness. He ran on all fours, his speed allowing him to close in with the pack. His pack._

_Fenrir had found them, at long last. They were reunited and there would be no leaving them. They hunted in their Were forms, most as wolves, one as a bear. The forest was alive in the moonlight. Fenrir was happy, if they were here then that would mean that __**she**__ was here too. He saw **her** sleek dark lupine form running ahead. Fenrir was about to catch her when he heard that deafening roar to his left. No, not that. He knew what was coming, did not want to see it again but couldn't control his body to stop himself from looking as from the crashing thicket came a..._

Fenrir jerked awake in a cold sweat, breathing hard. The memories were surging forward with a tide of emotion. No, he didn't want to feel it, not again, even after all this time. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated, creating mental barriers to barricade and force the flood back into the darkness. What in name of the rules of nature was going on? He hadn't had that bloody dream, for three years. What was causing it now? As his breathing steadied, be became aware of his surroundings.

He could feel the footsteps of someone trained in stealth. Soft and precise. Steps light enough that even some of the most sensitive prey would be unaware that the person was coming. The steps of a hunter

Reacting on instinct, Fenrir grabbed his scythe from beside him, it sliding out of its sheath with ease, and swung it at the approaching sound. The weapon sung like the wind. There was a startled sound from the person but the scythe met only air. Fenrir jumped to his feet and away from the wall, scythe ready, to meet his would be ambusher.

'Wait! I'm not here to fight.' said a female voice. Fenrir shook his head, brushing away some the the grey that blocked his sight. A slender woman stood before him, with hair short enough it that hugged her head. She wore dark colored light leather and cloth armor that left her arms bare. Her form appeared relaxed, but the look in her eyes told a very different story.

'Generally you don't try sneaking up on someone if you don't want to fight, Assassin.' Her eyes glinted dangerously. She seemingly vanished for a split second, getting behind Fenrir with incredible speed. A katar blade appeared at his throat. Fenrir could feel its sharp edge touching his skin. It hadn't drawn blood, not yet. That was a testament to her skill, drawing a blade at his throat so close without causing harm.

'If I wanted to fight you Druid, you'd be long dead by now.' Her voice was deadly cold now, whispered into his ears like one would to an intimate lover.

'I wouldn't be the only one.' growled Fenrir, gently prodding her stomach with the tip of his scythe. He'd changed his stance so that now the scythe blade was facing his back as she'd flanked him. 'Now care to tell me what one of the Viz-Jaq'taar would want with a Druid? Last I heard, your kind only went after the corrupted.'

'Finally a mage that might be interesting.' she sounded as if she'd finally found something to relieve a large amount of boredom, however brief. Fenrir couldn't see her face, but he figured his assailant was smiling at the prospect of a challenge. She eased off, her blade leaving his throat intact, albeit a little sensitive. Then she stepped back, allowing him to turn to face her. Fenrir changed his grip on the scythe so its head was forward in a more relaxed posture, but made no move to return it to the sheath. The Assassin's blade had disappeared from sight, she looked unarmed, but Fenrir had heard the stories he'd heard about these mage hunters. She was at her most dangerous like this, with no weapons in sight. Judging from the demonstration he'd just experienced, underestimating her would be the last thing in this life he'd know. Fenrir quickly reawakened his animalistic enhancements.

'The high priestess is asking for all the strong adventurers to meet with her. She has a task for us. After seeing you come out as well as you did against that Barbarian, I assumed she meant people like you and me. Your sorceress friend is there already I expect.' She started to walk by Fenrir. 'By the way Fenrir, my name is Selene. Give me one reason, and I won't play so nice next time.'

He'd never told her his name, which meant that Selene had more then likely been the one watching him and Erica since entering the camp.

'Firefingers is not my friend and the same to you.' He retorted, his eyes never leaving Selene until she'd passed him. Then he grabbed the sheath from where it lay, put in his scythe and slung the sling across his shoulder. He tested the scythe's potioning in the sheath a little. Charsi had done her work well. Satisfied, he moved after Selene, in the direction of Akara's tent. By his estimation, it was late in the day, the clouds still covered the sky so it was hard to tell. It was likely to rain again.

There were six others gathered before Akara. Fenrir knew half the people there, Selene the Assassin, Vercingetorix the Barbarian and Erica the Sorceress. As for the other half, he recognized them from his fight with Verincgetorix. There was the female Necromancer who'd stopped him from continuing his fight. The blonde well-muscled woman with the red armor who had lent her bow to the red cloaked Rogue. Then there was the other warrior female, the one equipped with a sword and shield that Fenrir had seen talking with Vercingetorix. Also the red Rogue was standing with the High Priestess, her arms were crossed and she looked infuriated, with an added amount of injured pride. With Fenrir's arrival there were now seven adventurers assembled before Akara. A quick look around verified that there were no more. Akara, seeing this, began to speak.

Akara began to tell them of the reasons that the Sisterhood was in such dire straights. A curse consuming the Rogues, caused by the Lesser Evil, the Maiden of Anguish Andariel . The great demoness had corrupted, captured or killed most of the Sisters. Now the remnants of the order were scattered throughout the wilderness.

Fenrir wasn't sure how to take this, but looking at the rest gathered, seeing their reactions, he knew he wasn't the only one. One of the great evils here in Sanctuary? Sure there were many lesser demons infesting the world, the Goatmen were common enough, but a Great Evil? Aside from the mythical Horadrim's quest to capture the Prime Evils, there had never been any great demons within the mortal realm. Unless one believed the stories Fenrir had heard about the Sin War that had ended with the reset of the world, which Fenrir didn't. However, there was evident that there was something horribly wrong. The forest was twisted, full of fear and malice. The Fallen attacking with such boldness was also not good.

'There is a place of great evil in the wilderness.' Desperation was taking a hold of Akara's voice. 'Kashya's Rogue scouts' that must be the name of the red Rogue, noted Fenrir 'have informed me that a cave near by is filled with shadowy creatures and horrors from beyond the grave. The scroll that was brought to me this morning confirmed this. I fear that these monsters are massing for an attack on our encampment. I implore you strangers, please help us. Find the dark labyrinth and destroy the foul beasts.' Akara finished.

Fenrir quickly filled in the silence. 'I take it there will be a reward?' He needed gold in order to recoup his losses from Kingsport. He could feel a few looks of disapproval about his bluntness.

Fenrir would never be able to understand human society. Looking back, it had been for a reason similar to this that he'd almost been locked within a stockade when he'd entered his first town. The Druids only had isolated schools and libarays within the northern wilderness of Scosglen. Which was why he had little experience with most conversations, beyond picking fights. Fenrir quickly banished these thoughts once again.  
'Yes there will. However, I should add that many Rogue scouts have died within that horrible place. If any of you should chose to enter that "Den of Evil" you shall do so alone.'

Alone then? Perfect. That was all Fenrir needed to hear. He gave a quick nod to Akara to show he understood then turned and left. He was filling the water skin he had bought in the river when he noticed the female sword and shield warrior approaching. If Fenrir had to guess, she looked like she hailed from Kehjistan.

She introduced herself.'So you are the wild beast that Vercingetorix spoke of. I am Andrastse, a Paladin of Zakarum.'

That made Fenrir want to get going as soon as possible. Why did human society have to go and make everything so complicated and messy. Religion...

'Myself and a few of the others are going after the "Den of Evil" Akara spoke of. I'd like to invite you to join us. So long as you and Vercingetorix can keep from coming to blows once more of course. May I have your name.'

Fenrir attached the waterskin to his sash and quickly checked his potions. Three red and one blue. He then looked at Andrastse. She seemed to put up a strong and honourable front, but Fenrir could see a darkness in her eyes, hidden, much like his.

He adjusted the strap of his sheath. 'I hunt alone' was all he said as he walked past her towards the bridge. He didn't look back to see her reaction. Once a good distance from the encampment Fenrir activated his empowerments. Feeling that enough time had past, Fenrir also decided to at least risk trying to enhance his nose once more. Bracing himself, he sniffed the air. The stench was still lingering, but no where near as potent as it was, so it was bearable. The moor smelt wrong. The scent of blood and wrongness filled the air.

'If Akara's to be believed, so it begins.' He muttered, before his attention was drawn to a loud caw. A large raven dropped from the sky, landing on Fenrir's shoulder. 'Odin! Where in the four winds have you been?' The raven merely gave an excusable croak, then began poking Fenrir's shoulder with his beak.

'No, I don't have any food. Maybe if you actually turned up earlier I might of given you some of the bread.' Odin gave an irritated caw, then took off, keeping the area Fenrir was in as the Druid walked. Fenrir had found Odin as a lost fallen chick not long after he began adventuring. He still didn't know if Odin liked him or if the Raven just took pleasure in tormenting him. Still, the companionship was appreciated.

'Yes, yes. You were right about Kingsport. I was wrong. Happy now?' Odin let out multiple caws that sounded like laughter before quickly diving, attacking a Fallen. Fenrir quickly joined in. The Fallen, and it's few friends, barely had the chance to scream before Fenrir's sweeping scythe moments deprived them of their cursed lives.

How was he going to find a cave like this? There were no clear paths aside from the makeshift road he'd arrived at the Rogue camp on and he hadn't seen any sign of a cave. He quickly came up with an idea. Fenrir picked up on of the more intact Fallen corpses. 'Odin see if you can find a cave nearby that has these things crawling around.' The raven cawed and flew off. Meanwhile Fenrir set about trying to find the cave himself. He flung the corpse away and shook his hand to clear off some of the blood. Then, with his scythe at the ready, he began to move quickly. He followed more concentrated sents of rot and wrongness, coming across groups of Fallen and a few more Zombies. They fell like brittle trees before a tornado. After he went through the fourth group, Odin had found the cave. After leading Fenrir to it, Odin flew off to find something actually edible. 'Good hunting.' Then Fenrir descended into the darkness as rain began to fall.

Fenrir had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dark, even with the enhancements. The monsters within the cave didn't. The sounds of the Fallen's high pitched battle cries closed in on Fenrir as their stench thickened. Then they were upon him. However, with his hearing and sense of smell working, Fenrir was hardly handicapped against the diminutive demons. Each time a sound came close, Fenrir's scythe swung like the wind, silencing it with a wet slash sound. By the short time his eyes had adjusted, six dismembered Fallen corpses lay on the floor. Yet more came, some of them were stupid enough to carry torches. Soon there was over three dozen of the little monsters before him. 'So, this is where evil hides.' Fenrir grinned and began to go to work. He charged them as they charged him. His charge was far more effective. His scythe allowing him greater range to unleash carnage. As soon as any Fallen drew near, they were sliced by the scythe. Fenrir's style with the scythe made it a point that once the scythe gained momentum, it doesn't stop until whatever he was fighting was reduced to bloody shreds. The arena announcers had called it, what was it, beautifully unorthodox.

The scythe's claw sang through a Fallen's neck, blood following it dying for release, and through the lower portion of another. It painted the air with Fallen blood. Once the first wave of Fallen fell, the second wave shrieked and tried to run, but crashed into the third wave which was thirsting for fresh meat. Fenrir dived into the confused mass, allowing the scythe to reap it's bloody harvest. The scythe's head was soon drenched by the time he'd finished the welcoming party. The remaining Fallen fled deeper into the depths. The torches that the Fallen had brought now lit a grim scene. It was hard to tell how many Fenrir had slaughtered, there were too many pieces to count. Fenrir gave his weapon a shake to clear off the blood and wiped some of the cooling splatter of his face. His heart was beating fast and he was all warmed up now.

Akara's information had been dead on. The Fallen and the foulness that permeated the air with the cave proved it. He quickly checked around for anything worth scavenging. Finding little beyond close to thirty gold coins and a few potions. Hearing nothing in the area, besides the pounding echo of rain drops on the ground above Fenrir moved into the darkness where he spotted the dim light of more torches. Behind him, he never noticed some of the Fallen rising from where they had fell and reassembling.

Cutting down two more Zombies, Fenrir came to a large open area of the Den. Dozens upon dozens of Fallen looked at him along with a few of the undead. For a moment, there was silence. Then the monsters shrieked battle cries, attacking en mase. 'Is that-' he started. There were cries behind him now. Fenrir risked a glance. More Fallen came down the the path he had come. But how, he'd wiped them out. These ones appeared more misshapen somehow, but he didn't have the time to worry about it. The Fallen swarmed him on all sides. His scythe began to move, cutting down one Fallen after another after another. It move with such speed and grace as it cut down the hellspawn. The Fallen themselves were not a problem, what was a problem was their numbers. The more he cut down, the more would come at him, becoming more and more misshapen. Some looked like they had been made from parts of different Fallen.

The demons were getting blows of their own in now. Fenrir was being overrun by their numbers, his scythe was beginning to slow as his energy began to slowly weaken. He was acumulating cuts and bruises but the Fallen kept on coming. Oddly, there were very few corpses, but Fenrir was too busy trying to remedy that. He needed a heath potion soon, but if he tried to grab one, it would leave him open. He needed an opening to get some space. Then the Gargantuan Beast showed up. The giant furry humanoid bellowed then plowed it's way through the crowd of Fallen and swung one of it's large furred fists at him. It hit him with a glancing blow, sending him rolling into a close by cavern wall. Bright lights of pain flared before Fenrir's eye's as waves of it hit his body. The Beast was nearly on top of him, roaring, raising it's fists to crush him.

He struggled to a position where he could possibly roll out the way. Too late, the Beasts fists were about to...

Be intercepted by a bulky man of mud and clay. Fenrir, didn't question it, he used the opportunity to roll out of the way as the creature faced off against the beast. He had his space, grabbed a health potion and downed it quickly as he could. Getting back to his feet and ready his weapon as the potion did it's work he noticed who had just, though he loathed to admit it, saved his hide. The female Nercomancer was directing a pair of skeletons as they cut through the mass of Fallen as her golem took on the Gargantuan. She glanced at him with a curious look.

'Now is not the time to be holding back.' Holding back? She did have a point. Wait, how could she know?

'Stick to your own affairs, Necromancer!' he snapped. However he did need the reprieve. He saw one of the Fallen he knew was dead get back up. Dark magic raced across it's hide, messily healing a fatal wound. It quickly rejoined the frey. Fenrir looked for the spell's source. He noticed several Fallen with staves keeping their distance from the battle, chanting in a demonic tongue. If he could get to them, he the rest of the demons would stay down no doubt. Only one problem, the Fallen sea in front of his prey still seethed and writhed with Fallen trying to get to and from the fight.

Maybe... How long had it been since he last shifted? Since he left Scosglen after that night of the Eye of Fenris... That had been four years ago.

'Batshit' Fenrir muttered as he cut down a Fallen that had drawn near. 'Hey, Necromancer! What do I call you?'

'Lissandra.' she said it quietly, but Fenrir heard it clearly over the din of the fight.

'Right, if I go feral, run.' Lissandra looked at him. He just shrugged. It's not the same, the red light of Fenris' eye has past,it should be ok. He thought to himself reassuringly.

He uttered the incantation. Light enveloped him as the spell shifted his form. In his place stood a wolf with a humanoid body. A Werewolf. Fenrir opened his eyes and breathed. It had taken a large chunk of his mana , it had been too long since he had last shifted.

He looked over his form. It was even more lean then his human one. Unkempt grey fur covered much of his body. His arms had lengthened. His hands no longer held a scythe, in stead, upon the long fingers were long claws that were sharp as the scythes blade was. His feet were now large paws. With three joints in his legs now, it was harder to stand upright. A tail wagged from his backside. His head was now lupine, a long snout had thrust forward from his face. His mouth was full of fangs as sharp as his claws. His ears on top of his head flicked at annoyance at the noise. The pleasure he had felt from the shift was overwhelming, he felt far more alive then he had in a long time. He threw his head back and let lose a mighty joyful howl and sped towards his prey.

Lissandra was stunned at the speed Fenrir ripped through the mass of Fallen. The first one couldn't even scream before the Werewolf's claws shredded it's head. Fenrir ripped through the Fallen and was able to tear apart the Fallen Shamen before he reverted to his human form. Only a minute. He could only hold his were form for a minute. He was rusty, he'd been able to go entire nights in his Werewolf form. He could worry about it later. The Fallen had scattered into the cave and the Gargantuan was pummelled into pulp by the golem. Leaving Lissandra to handle herself, he had no doubt that she could Fenrir went after the ones that had gone deeper.

Using his lycanthropy, it didn't take long to hunt them down. He turned a corner, about to get the last three. He found them, torn apart by a pack of Zombies. These ones were different from the other undead he'd encountered. They were similar to the Fallen he'd faced in the barn. The odd colored one radiated power, meaning he was the alpha. Big deal, he'd handled the Fallen pack alone without his Werewolf form, he sure as heck could handle a few odd corpses with it alone. With that reasoning he shifted once more and attacked with growling bark.

The Zombies came at him slowly, little surprise there. Especially in his Were state his reaction speed was insane. He tore into the first Zombie. It didn't do as much damage as it should have, his claws had trouble going through the rotted flesh like it should of. That caused him to miss taking it's head off. The rest of the Zombie joined their defending corpse, swinging at him clumsily. He dodged most, but one blow from the leader nearly imoblized him from the cold it brought. The cold slowed him, causing him to take another hit, which burned like fire.

Fenrir fell back, his form reverting back to human as his power failed. He needed a few more moments before his mana had recharged enough for him to shift. The undead closed in, breathing 'braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains' Fenrir was about to swing his scythe, when from the darkness, a large bulky bear-like mountain of flesh crashed down behind the Zombies, wielding a pair of axes. Vercingetorix swung, with great effort, taking one Zombie's head clean of, while bashing back it's body. Selene materialized from the shadows, katars sliding from nowhere and buried them into the back of the neck of another.

'Never send a mutt to do a warriors job.' boasted Vercingetorix

'Go back to the tavern, I think some wenches need more inflated ego.' snarled Fenrir as he shifted and ripped the head off the Zombie he had started.

'Now isn't the time for this!' Andrastse beheaded one more.

Two arrows buried themselves into the sockets of a Zombie's eyes. 'Why not, at least there'll be some entertainment down here. They'll have the honour of entertaining Shyvana of the Amazons.' said the female warrior with the bow.

The Necromancer's golem crushed the head of a Zombie about to attack Vercingetorix. Lissandra said nothing.

'This has be enough to earn the Rogues trust.' Spoke Erica as she shattered the second last Zombie with blots of ice.

That left only the main one, it didn't stand a chance under the combined attention of the seven. As the creature fell, light appeared through cracks in the ceiling and the air began to clear, slightly. After checking for anything of value, Fenrir found himself staying the party, with no idea why. He sighed then chuckled as they made their way out of the "Den of Evil" 'Is that all of them?'

**Author's bit: Biggest chapter yet! And it's only the Den of Evil to boot! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Sorry, just a bit excited. Anyway over 300 views right now, awesome, thanks a lot for reading. Hope you lot are enjoying this. Still, really need reviews, constructional criticism, suggestions. Comments would be great too. If I'm screwing up, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it. Suggestions for the story I'll consider. (I'll put more consideration into it than Baal did, or (SPOILERS) is going to.) Well, that's it for tonight. See you all next week. **

**AC-107**


	9. Chapter 9 Dead of Night

The return to the Encampment was uneventful. The sunlight that had seeped through the cracks in the Den of Evil an vanished behind the clouds once more. Yet it was slightly brighter. The moor glistened from the rain. Corpses of the undead and demons littered the ground, reminding Fenrir of the name he'd heard the place called in camp. The Blood Moor. Cheery. On the way he did his best to stay away from the group. It seemed that most of the adventurers had joined up for the most part, only Fenrir and Lissandra remaining isolated.

When they returned to Akara, all alive and in one piece, she had a stunned look on her face. From the sheer number of Fallen Fenrir had faced alone, he wasn't surprised that she was. There was now the tinniest glimmer of hope in Akara's eyes. She praised them for cleansing the den and used her skills as a Priestess of the Sightless Eye aid each one of them in training for a reward. It wasn't what Fenrir had expected, but he'd found enough gold to cover repair costs and food for one more night.

He quickly separated himself from the rest, and went to the river to give his scythe a more through cleaning before seeing Charsi.

After sliding it back into it's sheath, he took a gulp of the river water, he'd lost his water skin in the fight. The water was fresh and cold, yet there was a faint taint within. It was not concentrated enough to be a threat for now though. He felt heavy footsteps approaching and saw a reflection of a large humanoid figure. Vercingetorix knelt down, grabbing a hand-full of water from the river and bringing his hand to his mouth. His face was expressionless

'You were holding that power back when you fought against me.'

Fenrir took another drink from the river. 'What of it.'

The larger man's eyes narrowed 'You claim to be a wolf when you run like a rabbit.' An edge entered into his voice.

Vercingetorix's words had hit too close to the truth. So he bit back. 'Says the Barbarian a long way from Mount Arreat. What, was it too cold for you, clanless?' Fenrir snarled. As he turned his back on Vercingetroix, leaving.

The Barbarian's hand clasped Fenrir's arm in a vice grip. 'We finish this. Now. Across the bridge.' His voice a dangerously low growl.

Fenrir ripped his arm from Vercingetorix's grip, grasping his scythe. 'Touch me again, and you'll lose that arm. Glad you finally asked though.' The Druid snarled through bared teeth.

'Akarrat give me strength! I leave you be for a minute, Vercingetorix and you go after this Druid again?' Andrastse came storming towards the pair, with Selene and Shyvana accompanying her. A calming aura arrived with her reducing the tension if only somewhat.

'Ah leave them be, they'll fight sooner or later. Why not watch?' Shyvana leaned against a large cart with her arms crossed. 'I expect that pig Gheed would enjoy setting up bets on who would win.' She eyed the two men like they were beasts for the arena. She was mostly right.

'If the lycan died, that would make my life here a little less worrisome.' Selene commented 'One less mage is a good thing no matter what.'

'Key word there is "if"' muttered Fenrir, releasing his grip on his weapon

Andrastse sighed. 'I'm not going to let someone in my group start a deathmatch over something that has past. We have enough problems with Andariel taking the monastery.'

Vercingetorix turned his attention to Andrastse 'We saw what forces she has at her disposal, whatever she has stands no chance against us even if this Druid were to actually hurt me.'

Fenrir joined in, he just needed to tear Vercingetorix of his high horse. 'Have you ever used these things called ears you oversized ape? Remember what Akara said about Andariel corrupting members of the Rogue sisterhood? Did anyone here see any thing like that?'

'Last I heard you weren't in our group, so why don't you go off and sniff someone's rear end like a good dog?' replied Vercingetorix with a condescending tone.

'I would, but I think I've had my fill of shit with what's spewing from your mouth.' Snapped Fenrir his temper rising once more.

Andrastse moved to get between the two but Shyvana put a hand on her shoulder stopping her.

'They're going to go at it sooner or later. Might as well be now. Who knows, maybe we might get lucky and they'll take each other out.' She said it as if it was something typical, then sighed. 'This is why men aren't supposed to fight back home...'

'Shyvana...' The paladin started.

Blood might of have been spilt if Erica hadn't spoken, she had arrived late enough to hear Fenrir ask about the Corrupted Rogues, or rather lack of. 'I think Fenrir may have a point unfortunately. The only evidence of Rouges in that cave were ripped up corpses with bows.' With that said, Erica had completely destroyed the tension with out meaning to. It took everyone a few seconds to recover, then start throwing in their own opinions. Every one but the loner.

At this point, Fenrir decided he had had enough, taking his hand of his scythe once more, he turned and left. Since the fight wasn't going to happen he had no reason to stick around and listen to them bicker. Only fighting with the Barbarian was what Fenrir wanted. He had no interest in giving another pack a reason to hunt him.

As he left, he noticed Lissandra. The Necromancer was close enough to be seen and hear them talking, but not close enough to be noticed. Fenrir quickly glanced around for her supernatural helpers, they were nowhere in sight. She must of released them upon returning to camp. That still didn't exactly seem to put anyone, including Fenrir, at ease around her. The pale woman hadn't done anything to earn their mistrust, yet. Still, she if it wasn't for the fact that she wasn't rotted and breathed, most would of likely thought she was one of the undead. Aside from her little out burst in the cave, Lissandra hadn't spoken at all, to any one it would seem.

'Not going to join them?' Fenrir asked as he walked near. Lissandra just looked away quickly and left.

Fenrir shrugged and went to go see Charsi. He finally had some real gold to spend.

With the gold he'd gathered, Fenrir was able to properly upgrade his scythe, reinforcing it's shaft and blade. He was able to buy some leather armor, boots and gloves. It was a nice improvement over facing monsters with just the furs and cloth on his back.

As if sensing he was about to go eat, Odin dropped down onto Fenrir's shoulder with a loud caw. Fenrir glanced at the raven, he was looking at the Druid with his head cocked expectantly.

'Fine, fine. I'll go get something for us to eat.' Fenrir was feeling hungry. He'd forgotten how much energy it took to shift, even more so after not having done it for a long time. While he wasn't looking forward to the food choices here. It was something to fill his stomach and get the bloody bird off his back. Both literally and figuratively.

Once he had the food, and a new water-skin. The young grey haired Druid didn't stick around. There were more people getting a bite to eat and the guy in charge of the food wasn't too thrilled about Odin, the bird wasn't thrilled about the food guy either, but most importantly, Fenrir didn't want his meal to be bothered by anyone of the recently formed pack, or party as most called it. Especially Firefingers, with all her questions and whatnot. Why she kept coming after him, Fenrir had no idea.

He made himself comfy where he'd slept, briefly, before, with the wall at his back. He quickly broke a chunk off the one of the two bread loafs, easily crushing it into smaller crumbs, which kind of worried him, for Odin. The raven just threw him a look that said it all. Are you serious?

'If you want to try your luck finding something out there that is safe to eat, be my guest.' Fenrir bit into the crust with a crunch. The black bird cawed with distaste, but ate his portion anyways.

The darkness crept in as torches were lit. Night had come. Odin flew off to find a tree to rest in while Fenrir just laid down and closed his eyes. Some part of him feared that the nightmare would come again, but the rest figured it was just a rogue dream. It would stay where it was, in the past. Shouldn't it?

_Images, sounds and scents besieged his weary mind as the conscious gave way to the subconscious._

_Roars... Howls... Screams..._

_Pain..._

_A red moon over crimson snow..._

_A young girl dressed in furs... arm missing, shaking... eyes filled with fear staring... to her final breath._

_**Her**__... lying there in the snow... so cold... her body..._

_The smell of blood... thick and metallic... it stained his hands..._

_The Eye of Fenris saw all that night..._

_Di..._

Fenrir jerked awake once more in cold sweat, heart racing. The dream faded from his mind. What had it been? Last thing he remeber was D. Diablo? Fenrir sat up, suppressing a shudder. Resting his face in his hand, the Druid muttered to himself. 'Is this just because of some demon jokes? That's it, find some decently paying job that'll get you away from here as fast as possible.' He yawned and then noticed something as his heart stopped pounding.

Listening, the Druid heard nothing. That was the problem. Sure there was the noise of the camp, but beyond that, nothing. No cricket chirping, no hunting sounds of nocturnal predators. Nature, even corrupted, was never, ever, ever this quiet. The silence must of woken him up as much as the dream. He hadn't released the enchantment upon his senses in case Selene or one of the others decided they wanted a piece of him.

Fenrir got up, slinging his scythe back onto his back, he made for the camp entrance. On the way, he noticed a few of the Rogue sisters gathered with Akara and Kashya by the large campfire at the center of the camp. He could hear them speaking. Stories maybe? No time to wonder about it, he had more concerning matters. He really hoped his instincts were wrong, for once.

There were two Rogues guarding the bridge when he arrived. They were awake and alert, eyes looking into the gloom. Fenrir joined them, one of them risked a quick glance at him. Just then, Fenrir heard a distant familiar "twang". An arrow appeared from the dark, diving into the side of the Rouge's head, she dropped without a sound. More twangs sounded right after, some were closer.

'Get down!' Too late Fenrir shouted. An arrow sprouted from the other Rogue's eye before the Druid could say "down". Fenrir himself barely avoided becoming a fleshy pincushion himself as close to half a dozen arrows zoomed over his descending head and body with deadly intent, slamming into the gate wall behind him. He couldn't see who was shooting, but he did hear really familiar moans drawing closer and closer as the stench of rot filled the night air.

He had to get away from the torches. He was a chicken in a coup just waiting for a fox otherwise. He crouched low by the stone rail of the bridge. Crossing would be risky, paramount to suicide with those archers. Fenrir had his speed though, more so once shifted. So why not? It'd be better than fighting a bunch of moving corpses in the light where he was a target. He heard the sounds of people coming from within the camp.

Not wasting time waiting for the cavalry, Fenrir let out a hunting howl into the night and dashed across the bridge, shifting as he moved. He nearly tripped as result, but with his senses to the maximum, the Werewolf was able to cross with only a arrow's graze. In the darkness he had a good chance. Within, the Zombies came at him. So began the struggle for survival.

These corpses were different from the ones in the cave. They moved more quickly and tried to strike him with more force. Tearing one apart, Fenrir felt dirt in under his claws. He didn't think about it, as an arrow whizzed by and another of the undead swung at him. The Zombies were starting to swarm him, Fenrir fell back, away from them and away from the torch light. Keeping low in the shadows he moved to find on of the attackers isolated. He near got his mussel pierced, only his shift ending just as an arrow nearly hit, missing by a second.

He looked at where the arrow had come from and saw a very feminine body. A very shapely, beautiful naked female body. Fenrir might of fallen for the mesmerizing image if not for a few problems. There were horns on her head and spikes coming out of her arms and thighs. A demonic vine-like growth covered her waist like a provocative under garment and grew around the rest of her body and cupped her breasts. Even in the darkness her skin was as white as snow in the light of day. Her eyes glowed with demonic fury. Most importantly, she had a bow, arrow notched, string taunt, and it was pointed right at Fenrir.

With a twang it flew straight for his chest. Fenrir leaped to the side, avoiding it rolling and getting to his feet. He heard a voice from the darkness. It sounded feminine, but wrong, like something else was using the voice as well as another one. 'Welcome to my army, time to die.' He dodged another arrow.

A chattering of bone sounded behind him. Fenrir looked to see a sickle coming horizontally towards his neck from behind. He blocked the strike with the shaft of scythe. There an irritated clatter. The sickle, gripping the scythe, pulled with an unnatural strength, pulling Fenrir into a shield bash, knocking him forward. He as he stumbled, an arrow struck the Druids left shoulder. Fenrir let out a gasp of pain and swung his scythe around, dividing in two the skeleton that had attacked him from behind. He turned once more. The demon thing he'd seen before had another arrow trained on him, this time, it was unlikely he'd be able to avoid it.

A small, metal ball landed between them. 'Eh?' was all Fenrir had to say before...

"BOOM" The object exploded with all the force of a fire blast, lighting up the night, blinding him. He heard the demon scream as a otherworldly light brief escaped into the sky before vanishing.

He heard someone sound disappointed. 'Were you trying to fry me?' he yelled at Selene, who just gave an apologetic look that had no sincerity in it, at all.

'I only missed it by that much.' She moved to attack more monsters.

'Me or the demon bitch?' Fenrir muttered. Really, what was it with girls and fire? This was the second time in just as many days that he'd almost been roasted by a girl and he didn't even want to go over what happened in Kingsport.

The arrow hurt, but the head itself hadn't penetrated far. Charsi knew how to make her armor. Fenrir shifted, ripping out the arrow with elongated mussel.

The sounds of fighting filled the moor now. Fenrir heard the war shouts of Vercingetorix in the midst of the mass of Zombies. The frozen projectiles Erica fired, ripped through undead bodies as Lissandra's skeletons fought against other skeleton in a morbid dance of which one could take more hits. Odin dived from the sky, his talons raking the face of another demonic woman, this one more clothed than the first but no less twisted, before taking to the skies once more. The Rogues of the camp fired volleys into the undead, aiming for where they clustered thickest. Shyvana stood with them, firing one shot after another. Fenrir dived back into the frey, attacking the more vulnerable Corrupted Rouges, some fortunately more clothed than others. The lights that rose from their dying corpses were demons fleeing back to Hell.

The from before voice spoke up once more. 'My army, push forward, destroy them all!' Another wave of undead attacked. The Zombies were starting become more of a nuisance than a threat now Their numbers being their only strength.

A expanding blast of cold froze one of the larger groups of Zombies. Erica quickly moved out of the center, blasting and artfully swinging her staff as she went, shattering many of the undead before they could thaw. Andraste moved to help the Sorceress, her aura giving aid to the human combatants.

A pained caw drew Fenrir's attention to the sky. Odin fell, an arrow piercing his wing. Fenrir tore apart the skeleton he was battling and raced to catch the crippled raven, successfully doing so. Quickly performing a minor summoning spell, Fenrir sent Odin somewhere safe until he could help him. He then looked for the culprit. It didn't take long to find her. There she stood, fully clad in Rogue gear, yet with demonic vines growing across her body. Even with the side effect of his vision, Fenrir could still see the red, that seemed to over flow her body.

Rage filled him. 'Hey! Bow bitch! I'm the only one who get to mess with that bird!' He roared and shifted once more into his were form and raced at her on all fours, zigzagging and keeping low to make himself harder to hit. She was going to pay for hurting Odin! The Rogue just laughed and shot at him.

'Join my army of the dead.' The missiles screamed past him, grazing him. Fenrir could feel the power with each of the arrow heads. One was cold as ice, another foul with poison, the one that hit him was charged with lighting, giving him a large jolt. Right in the bloody shoulder. The Werewolf nearly fell, but he had closed the distance. He leapt at his prey, swinging his good arm. One of the vines tried to block, his blow severed the growth, but it weakened off his strike. His claws ripped through the skin and leather on the demons chest, drawing dark warm blood with them. The dark Rogue cried in pain and retreated, nearly blown to pieces by another of Selene's explosives as the Assassin launched an ambush. She was unsuccessful as the creature retreated further. Fenrir moved to run down the fleeing enemy, however she manged to cripple his movements with an arrow to his knee. The werewolf yelped in pain and shifted back to his human form, cursing. The demon fled, her hand clutching her wound and with her departure, the last of the Zombies were quickly destroyed.

Kashya cursed every single second of that battle. Their loses had been few, thanks to the outlanders, though she despised that fact. However the loses they had taken were still too many for her. What was worse, was the corpses that had been use in the attack. She turned back towards the camp heading to the campfire, leaving Akara to tend to the wounded and see to the dead. Only one thing was on Kashya's mind.

'Damn you...Blood Raven.'

**Author's bit: Here we are one again. About the knee thing, to those of you that get it, I regret nothing. Yes it's old and used up, but what the hell, it fit so why not? Yep, there will be hummor in this, but I will stay in the spirit of Diablo. (There is no cow level in this story... maybe, not likely, haven't really thought about it.) Any way, to those of you who reviewed, thank you for your input. Working on character interaction, already got a few ideas about relationships, which will make things nice juicy, and very messy later on, not saying. It will most likely be extremely clumsy and whatnot seeing as this my first real attempt at real fiction, (Real as in I actually plan to finish this sucker. I've started a few other stories, but lazed out on em) Any who, thanks for reading, thanks for the input and am really looking forward to hearing from anyone and everyone. See ya :P **


	10. Chapter 10 Begin the Hunt

'Quit complaining. You only got shot in your feathers! The arrow only scratched you at most.' Odin let out an indignant caw and hopped on the ground. The arrow had only pierced the raven's feathers. While it did prevent Odin from flying for a while, it wouldn't be long before the bird molted.

'Oh shut it. At least you didn't get shot in the bloody knee!' The potions were starting to become less effective. It had taken well over a few minutes before Fenrir had been able to put weight on his injured leg and he had to see Akara before he could stop limping. His body must have been starting to become resistant to the minor health potions.

It had been a long wait till morning. The clouds still did not let up though the light was starting to improve just a little. The camp had been on high alert all night. No other attacks had come. If that bode ill or not was hard to say. Yet the last illusion of safety had been shattered for many. Therefore something had to be done. Not that it mattered to Fenrir, but the Corrupted Rogue had made it very personal by injuring Odin. There was no way that he'd ever let the bird know that though. Odin would never let Fenrir live it down if he found out.

Now that dawn had come, Fenrir got to his feet. It was time to hunt the bitch down. Her scent should still be fresh, it hadn't rained during the night. He also had some of the dirt The only problem was Odin. Unable to fly, the bird was in danger and couldn't fend for himself so he couldn't Odin along, but he couldn't leave the Raven here either. He didn't trust the people not to use the crippled bird as food if all they seemed to have was stale bread and watery soup. That just left the summoning spell, and Odin just hated that.

'It's your fault for getting shot in the first place. Look, If your feathers come back singed again I wont do it again, okay?' Fenrir began concentrating. Odin cawed in dismay, hopped over to the young Druid's foot and began pecking it viciously. After the Raven had vanished Fenrir looked at his boot.

'Damn it Odin.' Then he walked over to the blacksmith

Fenrir wasn't the only one the Demoness had vexed. Kashya's heart seethed with rage. Akara had said far too many last rites as of late. The corpses had been their own dead! The more rotten corpses had, without a doubt, been retrieved from the Monastery graveyard, but that was just the bad news. The worse news was that some of the Zombies had been fresh Rogue corpses, heavily gnawed with arrows sticking out of them. She'd even recognized one of the twins, Elly. The only route from this pig sty of an encampment was watched by Flavie and her band. They had sent runners out, but had yet to hear back.

Kashya didn't know who to curse more; Andariel for corrupting their order, Blood Raven for succumbing so easily and causing this, or herself for not acting sooner. The red clad Rogue grimaced, she'd worry about it after the Monastery was retaken. It would be retaken. Only before that, there was the threat Blood Raven posed. As much as she loathed to, Kashya needed the outsider's help.

'Yet another dreary day.' she murmured to herself as she walked to the campfire, where most of the outlanders spent their night. Of course they had given the Rogues some distance when they'd gathered by the fire the night before. Blood Raven's attack had been a complete surprise.

Kashya's fists clenched tightly as she strode over to the group. Aside from two, wait one, they were all there. The pale girl was at the edge of the group, seemingly staring at something that wasn't there. No doubt the the grey haired outlander had wandered off by himself. The young woman who called herself a paladin walked up to greet Kashya.

'Hello Kashya, is there something you need?'

'I need your help.' She swallowed what was left of her pride. It was unlikely they'd be able to match Blood Raven, however these outlanders had cleansed the Den of Evil. Maybe they'd at least buy Kashya time to find a way to counter the Dark Rogue. Sill, she couldn't keep the anger and frustration out of her voice 'The Corrupted Rogue who lead the attack last night, was Blood Raven, one of our finest captains in the battle against Diablo at Tristram. She was also one of the first to be corrupted by Andariel. If you really are our allies, help us destroy her!'

'Of course. Any idea as to were Blood Raven obtained her cursed army of the dead? It may aid us in finding her.' The Paladin actually sounded sincere. Kashya had expected them to barter for some sort of reward or something of the like. She let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

'Apparently Andariel isn't content to take only our living. The zombies Blood Raven raised were our own dead from the Monastery Graveyard. We cannot abide this defilement!' She was digging her nails into her palms from clenching her fists so tight. A wet warmth was beginning to form in her hands. 'You will find it to the north east, past the Blood Moor and Cold plains. If you reach the Stoney Field, you've gone too far.'

'I Understand. We will end this.' Frustration and betrayal. Andrastse knew the emotions she had seen in Kashya's eyes all too well. As the Rogue left, Andrastse turned to her companions. Vercingetorix was already sharpening his axes.

'Another charity run?' He asked, unsurprised. The bear of an adventurer had been travelling with her since she'd helped him out of a situation in Kingsport. How that bar brawl had escalated to that point, she'd never know, nor did she want to. It was hard to believe that he was supposedly five years her elder at time. Vercingetorix had a tendency to be extremely childish at times, his feud with the Druid Fenrir proving her point.

'You know me. Where there is darkness, I bring the light. For such is the way of my faith.' Andrastse replied.

Selene looked at Adrastse. 'While light is good and all, too much of it has a tendency to burn everything.'

'Just what are you getting at Assassin?' Andrastse and Selene got along better than Vercingetorix got along with the grey-haired Druid, which merely meant they hadn't drawn blades at one another's throats.

The darkly dressed woman pulled out a small odd blade that had a ring for a handle and looked it over. 'Just noticing how "devout" the church Zakarum has been lately, that's all.' She said grimly. Gripping the ring carefully, Selene flicked her wrist. Two more blades separated from the first, sliding along the ring until the points made triangle. With one more satisfactory glance, she collapsed the ring blade and made it seemingly vanish from sight.

Andrastse wasn't interested in playing games. 'If you're not going to say what you mean...' She was interrupted by Lissandra.

'Balance.' She said quietly, but in a manner that it couldn't be missed, and without any sort of meaning to the current conversation, apparently. The pale woman was still looking away, her attention not quite elsewhere, but not there either.

'So she finally speaks then.' Shyvana commented, preparing her equipment. The Necromancer had simply appeared with their group during the previous night, like a specter of some kind. In the time she'd been with them, she hadn't said a word. While Lissandra's presence put everyone on edge, from what they'd seen in the Den of Evil, her summoning skills were invaluable if they were up against the might of the Burning Hells. Nevertheless they kept a wary eye on her, just in case. One does not simply take a Necromancer's word after all.

The Amazon was getting impatient 'So are we going as a group, or do I have to put Blood Raven out of everyone's misery myself?'

Adrastse began preparing to head out herself. 'We leave ten minutes from now, try to travel light.'

Erica waked over to Lissandra. The Sorceress had learned to, for the most part, stay out of conversations. She had little skill in them. Occasionally she lucked out as she had when she had encountered Flavie's band, but that had been more of an interrogation than anything. So she'd packed her satchel with both a tome of portals and identity, as well as the book of arcane formulae and lore Akara had gifted her while the rest of the party spoke.

'Are you sure you can handle this?' She asked out of concern, something that most would think would be wasted on a Necromancer. Yet for all Lissandra's power, Erica had learned that the pale girl had one particular weakness. The white lady stood up and looked at the exotic girl with her pale blue, unseeing yet seeing eyes and quickly nodded in what one could say was an appreciative manner. She then walked away to being her own preparations.

Whether the rest of the party knew this or not, Erica had no idea. She'd only found out after the night's battle when she'd used her second sight to make sure there was no magic traces of any foes. When she'd found no sign of any enemies she had a quick look around at her companions. Her second sight allowed her to see the mana flow within a person. The mana flow of a person differed depending on their personality, way of life and and how they used their power, if they did. She wanted to see Fenrir's mana passage, to at least get some actual knowledge about the loner. The Druid was an enigma to her, one that made her want to never see it again. Yet her curiosity as always won out.

Instead she had caught sight of Lissandra. The Necromancer's mana was channelled to her hands, but a small yet noticeable portion of it had been focused to her eyes. It was generally a sign of second sight, however the passages of mana indicated that it was active constantly.

When Erica had move to ask Lissandra about this she had noticed how the pale girl's eyes had looked at her without seeing her, some of the elders of the Zann Esu had eyes much like that. It was then that Erica had known.

Lissandra was blind. It seemed that she was able to make do with her minions and second sight, but Erica would look out for her, just in case. She had a lot to ask Lissandra and also wanted to see what else the dark mage could do.

The long haired girl was so caught up in her thoughts that she was nearly left behind.

Away from the camp Fenrir stretched and took in a breath of air. The wind had changed but the scent remained. He smirked. That bow bitch could run, but she could not hide from his nose. He'd follow that red smell till he found this so called "Blood Raven". Then it'd get interesting. She'd pay for everything no doubt, but there was the question of how he'd even get close to her, without becoming a wanabe hedgehog. Meh, he'd worry about that after he found the demon.

His grey hair tail pulled by the wind, Fenrir walked on. The moor did mess with the sent, slowing his progress. At least the the weather had the decency not to rain at least once in a while. Although, the sky didn't look promising at all, but it was hard to tell. It seemed that all the sky wanted to do as of late was rain. As long as it didn't, Fenrir really did not care. He had prey, he had the prey's scent. It kept him busy and awake which kept him away from his dreams. Perfect. No way to lose there, unless he got shot again.

'Just catch up to the damn demon first.' he muttered to himself. At least one bright side to the battle was the all of Blood Raven's minions had been killed by Fenrir, Selene and arrows fired by the Rogues and Amazon. So now all he had to worry about was a highly skilled, fast, demonically empowered, arrow slinging bow bitch and her army of the dead. No problem.

This was exactly why the grey-haired youth hated thinking ahead. Stick to making it up as you go along, you're good at that. With that thought in mind, he carried on. He had hunted a variety of animals, many of which had formidable defences to discourage predators. Yet that was the thing. Quill fiends and other creatures capable of ranged attacks used them to merely wound enemies to either force predators away or weaken prey before moving closer to finish the job. Humans were different. Their ranged weapons had one aim, to kill. This was one of many reasons beasts feared "civilized" man. Great.

Fenrir followed the scent to a bottleneck made by the woods and a ruined ancient wall. It was late in the day now, the darkness beginning to return. Most of the monsters in the moor must of fled either when Blood Raven and her army attacked or when he and the others went looking for the Den of Evil. Pity, he wanted something to hit, he had some more energy to burn off now.

Some bushes near the bottleneck rustled and stirred. It looked like he was about to get his wish. Fenrir raised his hand to his scythe's handle, to rip it out in an instant. His knees bent and ready to propel him in any direction and his shape shifting ability awaiting the mana. But what clambered over the wall from the wilderness wasn't a foe. It wasn't exactly a friend either though.

It was Flavie, and she looked a lot worse for wear. She had the face of someone who hadn't slept for days and had a losing fight with the wild. A dark ring was around her visible eye which had more despair within it now. She was breathing heavily. There was a gash covered in congealed blood on her left arm from an arrow and she was holding her side, which was darker then the rest of her clothes with her right arm. Her bow was missing. The scent of blood hovered around, both old and fresh. Her eye closed. She was also about to collapse.

Fenrir rushed forward, taking his hand off his scythe and caught the injured rogue before she could fall. Then he eased her to the ground to look her over. Other than the gash on her arm and the dark spot on her side that she clutched, she seemed okay. He was still of the opinion that she was a bit of a bitch, no where near Blood Raven's or Kashya's levels of course, but such are first impressions.

He released the mana flow of his second sight that effected his eyes, enabling him to see the full spectrum of colors once more.

Fenrir moved her hand. From the looks of things and smell, it was pretty bad. Bad enough it made the Druid grimace. He felt some slight guilt that he was glad that it wasn't his wound, but only slight. The wound was a hole that went through the front to the Rogue's back, large enough to fit a finger or two. Most of the blood had dried, but there was some still leaking out along with some foul smelling dark puss.

He reached for one of the healing potions he carried. Even if he didn't like her, he couldn't just leave another predator to die pitifully like this.

'Hey, you awake?' Fenrir gave her a light tap on the face. Flavie's eye opened in suprise. Obviously she hadn't expected to open again as well as the fact as it was the "dog" that was helping her. The Rogue was about to say something, but the broad shouldered man gently lifted her head and put an open potion in front of her mouth. 'Save it, drink up.' And tipped it into her mouth. The potion would be able to heal the wound, but it would dull the pain and prevent Flavie from dying for a bit. The brown haired lady was breathing easier now, coughing just a little. As for actually healing the wound, he'd probably have to bring the woman to a healer. In other words, Akara. He only had one portal scroll, the things were expensive and rare, but it was either this, or walk back to the camp and risk meeting the pack again. Shortcut it was then.

Some footfalls appeared behind him

'Beware! The Corrupted Rogues!' Flavie cried out.

Fenrir's right hand raced to his scythe and ripped it out, just in time to deflect a sword stroke that would of carved up his back. Jumping to his feet he turned to face his assailant. The Corrupted Rogue had wicked scimitar and shield. Not the weaponry of ones average rogue scout. And this one had friends. None of them had bows. Fenrir bared his teeth in snarl and quickly looked back to Flavie. She was pulling herself towards the closest ruined wall, doing her best to not be in the Druid's way.

'Hang on, this will take a moment.' Then he began to let the scythe scream into the wind as it swung towards the first demoness. They all rushed at him, swinging their swords, eyes filled with bloodlust. Fenrir spun, the scythe painting the air with corrupted blood, the blade drinking with every slash. Once the first three demons had screamed for the sky the Druid let his mana unleash his werewolf. He shifted mid slash, the scythe becoming part of him once again. It's blade becoming his claws. His arms lengthening and becoming covered in fur. He let a roar and fell upon the rest of the demons like a wolf upon sheep. His hands ripping through their defences and tearing out blood and entrails. Near a dozen of the fallen humans lay around him when he was done.

Returning to his human form, he went back to Flavie. The Rogue tried to push herself back. Fenrir could see fear in her eyes. Giving his scythe a shake to dislodge the blood, he sheathed it. Wiping his hands, move closer to Flavie, picking her up with a grunt. He'd seen the look before, on a night that felt like it belonged only in nightmare. Only it had been from someone else. Flavie's fear was easy to understand. It had come from seeing a stranger turn into a beast and tear apart creatures that had once been her sisters. Whereas the other had known Fenrir better.

And had made the mistake of trusting him.

'Relax.' He said that mostly for himself, but also for the Rogue too. It seemed to calm the Rogue, or at least bring her back to herself.

'Put me down, I don't need your help!' She struggled then let out a groan of pain, she clutched her side.

'Of course, that's why you didn't need that health potion back there then isn't it.' Fenrir just statistically commented as he brought out the portal scroll. Infusing it with some mana, he tossed the parchment a few meters away. The magic activated, creating a town portal from here to the Encampment.

Stepping through it, Fenrir arrived and was instantly swarmed by Rogues, all worried for Flavie when they saw her in his arms. Once he got her to Akara, he made back to the portal. Along the way he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be relief on her face. Only for an instant, which made him question whether he'd actually seen corect.

Stepping back through the portal Fenrir realized that he still wasn't alone. There six others there. Just his luck. The one thing worse than enemies, at least he could kill those.

Vercingetorix's pack.

**Authors bit: Hey again. In this chapter you may of noticed that I'm not just using just Fenrir's point of view anymore. I'll more than likely be doing more stuff like that in the future with the seven as well as a few other NPCs from Diablo 2. Also I've decided to use second sight instead of enhancements from now on. Enhancements sounded a bit too modern for Diablo to me. Anyways, as always, hit me with everything you've got. Questions, reviews, criticisms, etc.**

**See you all next week**

**Sincerly AC-107**


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